


Show Me Love ("Yeah, Boys, Let's Get Fucked Up!")

by Chooboozle, Emono



Series: The Lost Boys Series [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: All the usual GTA AU tags, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Daddy Kink, DirtyCop!Ryan, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Gang Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, OT7, Shameless Smut, Violence, Voyeurism, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chooboozle/pseuds/Chooboozle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Special Agent James Ryan Haywood, DEA, but dirty. The Fake AH crew file falls on his desk but their leader finds him first. Slowly but surely, the gang courts the agent and tries to spin a web that will trap him for themselves. Haywood resists, but he finds himself not only liking the attention but liking the crew. They appeal to the predator in him. Will his resolve to keep a "normal" life hold, or will he give himself over to the crew? Geoff disarms him, he could turn him into what he was meant to be...or he could crush him, destroy the fragile world he'd built for himself. The question that remains is - is it worth the risk?</p><p>---</p><p>“Either way, Haywood, you’re mine. You just don’t know it yet.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A big thanks to[Sailor Bryant](http://sailorbryant.tumblr.com/) and [justazeero ](http://justazeero.tumblr.com/)on tumblr for kicking off this whole AU. It's been in the back of my mind for a long time but their ideas FINALLY kicked my ass into gear. But, a huge round of applause to coauthors Choo and whatdoyewant for agreeing to create it with me, from the brainstorm to the characters to the writing to just giving their limited time and energy into this because they're both starting college. Emono here, speaking for lovely friends, because they need to focus on college and I have  no sleep schedule and free time to post this at 1am while they rest. We all three worked super hard at this and we really hope you like it?**

**All commentary is REALLY appreciated and we just want to know if all our bumbling was worth it and made you at least smile?**

**Also, here's[Michael's tattoos](http://emono-omae.tumblr.com/post/124249284511/fake-ah-crew-michael-aka-the-dragon-tattoos)**

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan could vividly remember the first day the file landed on his desk. DiNozzo, that smug shit, had been standing nearby like he’d been waiting just to see his reaction. The folder was somehow both thick and empty, a plethora of personas and suspected involvements and mugshots all more than five years old. Weapons lists, lazily scrawled reports from flatfloots, summaries and reference numbers to other gangs. One title written below a string of numbers on the tab of the folder, scratched in black ink: “Fake AH Crew.”

  


His chief, Hullum, stared him down as his mouth crinkled up into a sneer.

  


“What’s this?” he’d grunted out in distaste. His desk had been piled high with cases and he didn’t need another.

  


“Your latest suspects in the coke ring.”

  


Ryan had glared at the folder in hopes of setting it on fire. “I thought we confirmed it was Funhaus dealing the blow?”

  


Hullum had tisked at him, tapping the top of the folder. “You think those idiots are smart enough to get their hands on that much powder? Don’t be narrow sighted, Haywood, who do you think is moving this stuff and making it so available?”

  


Ryan made the mistake of putting them in the back of his mind and focusing on Funhaus, on connections, on anything but a gang who probably wasn’t even in the city. He wasn’t an overachiever, he was just trying to do his job. Fake AH were ghosts, mythic creatures for glory seekers. He didn’t have time to make history, he just wanted to live his life. He had his own secrets to smother up, he didn’t have time to go truffle hunting just to make the department look good. There were other Special Agents for that.

  


And it all went downhill from there.

  


xXxXxXx

  


Ryan crushed the empty coffee cup in his fist and walked over to the nearest trash can to toss it. He slumped against the concrete pillar it was propped up against and watched the scene before him. The parking garage was chilly enough that his overcoat couldn’t keep out the worst of it and the others milling around the covered corpses were hunched in on themselves, trying to keep warm in the early morning as they took notes and pictures. Five dead and one of them with the broken, orange ‘H’ tattooed across his ribs. _Funhaus_. Those annoying, rowdy bastards. They were always making messes and this looked like a classic drug deal gone wrong.

  


The four lesser gang members had been armed to the teeth with knives and guns hidden on themselves. When he’d examined the scene it hadn’t taken long to realize there had been some kind of third party. The Funhaus gang was big on extremes - kill everything or run, hardly any in-between. From the angles and sparsity of the wounds to the victims, it looked like the four had been expertly gunned down (maybe while distracted) and the single FH gang member had been sloppily shot in surprise. Maybe even while the others were running. From what he’d experienced, they were only loyal at the core group, and all others were deemed rather expendable.

  


Ryan could only hope FH was snorting as much as they were dealing and they would slip up soon. They were leaving a trail of bodies and there was very little info on them. It was frustrating, but not as frustrating as a mysterious shooter that got away scot-free when sandwiched between some tweaking thugs and an established gang.  

  


_Maybe the FH boys knew the shooter. Hell, could’ve sent them running scared._

  


The sharp, acrid smell of cigarette smoke hit his nose before the low rumble of a voice behind him. “I’m impressed.”

  
Ryan tensed, frozen against the pillar as his eyes darted around. No one else had reacted but he’d somehow isolated himself further away from the scene than he’d intended. There was someone behind him on the other side of the pillar, someone out of sight and speaking softly enough that their voice didn’t carry. His team and the the CSIs were chattering loud enough to bounce noise around. He went with his gut and went along with it, silently cursing the world for suddenly seeming so interesting to the other detectives. Even the flatfoots outside the tape weren’t giving him a speck of attention.

  


“Who are you?”

  


There was a scoff. “You’re not an idiot. You know who I am, just like I know who you are, Special Agent Haywood.”

  


Blue eyes went wide, yet no one around him reacted. Were they all suddenly deaf or being intentionally thick? _I could just shout. Say something, anything, and this guy will have five guns trained on him._

 

“The night isn’t as dark as you think. And you’re not just dirty, you’re fucking _filthy_.” A sharper musk of tobacco made his nose twitch. “There’s only two ways this will end. You’ll either be in a cheap pine box or moaning on the end of my cock.”

  


Ryan flushed hot, hands balling into fists at his side. _Don’t let this fucker get to you. Don’t let him under your skin._

  


“Either way, Haywood, you’re mine.” The voice grew more quiet, tobacco smell fading out. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  


Ryan heard the grind of metal on concrete and he blinked hard a few times, clearing the sudden fog from his vision. He wasn’t sure what had stunned him but he became quick on the draw, sliding out his pistol and flipping off the safety in one movement. He kicked off the pillar and curled around it with feline grace, aiming for a target that wasn’t there. Not a soul in sight. His eyes darted all over but by the time they landed on the wide ground grate and put two-and-two together it was too late. The man was gone. _A third party shooter. Who the hell are you?_

  


Ryan reluctantly clicked back on the safety and lowered his gun, frowning at the empty splay of garage before him. He circled the grate, huffing like a bull at how he’d been thwarted by some shocking words and a gravel drawl. _Fucking grateful none of the others saw that shit. I’d never live it down._

  
His gaze thoughtfully drifted and he spotted something against the pillar. Small and slim, a cigarette. As Ryan walked closer he realized it was a tightly rolled up piece of paper, surprisingly clean and neat for a filthy place like this. He knelt down and snatched it up, feeling the crisp paper between the pinch of his fingers. He carefully unrolled it (keeping a watchful eye for suspicious powder or electronics) but there was nothing besides some words written with what looked like a fountain pen.

  


‘ _Take care, lest an adventures is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe.’_

  


“Watcha’ got there, Haywood?”

  


Ryan bunched the paper in his fist as quickly as he could and stood up, holstering his gun and thumbing the scrap into his pocket. Kerry, his probie, was frowning a little and leaning over the side of the pillar to see what he’d come up with.

  


“Nothing,” Ryan grunted out. “There was a third shooter. I thought it was a casing.”

  


Kerry’s brow pinched up. “Do you think he was dumb enough not to clean up after himself? Tony said he might have left something behind, that this could’ve been a rushed ambush.”

  


“Jesus, Shawcross, do you think for a second a single-shot gunman who took out a rat pack of thugs probably within seconds would be stupid enough to leave something behind?” He flashed his teeth. “And stop listening to DiNozzo, he’s a moron. Just because he buys you drinks doesn’t mean he’s any smarter than the average kissass.”

  


It was a defensive snap but the young man backed off, hand help up in a type of surrender. “Whatever you say, Boss.”  


“And stop calling me ‘Boss’.” _I’m your God damn babysitter._

  


xXxXxXx

  


“Yeah the next time you get your cummy fingers all over my screen, I'm gonna make you regret it,” Jack muttered with sarcasm as he plopped into the black, leather chair. It rolled slightly, also folding back to allow him to completely relax and unwind. He had just previously talked to Geoff about a deal they were about to score with a druglord. They were about to have a huge haul as long as everything went according to plan and although Geoff wanted them all to celebrate for their incoming bankroll, Jack was already making himself comfortable in front of the camera monitors. One in the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, then three in the bedroom - six all together.

  


“Fuck yes...” He grinned as the guest of honor stepped into view. He was just as good-looking as ever even if his clothes were just a bit off centered from a long day. One white, dress sleeve rolled up while the other was completely down with what seemed like a small coffee stain on the cuff and even some dark, sweat stains under his arms. As he stepped in, he could see Ryan flick a cigarette butt out of the door before closing it, huffing out a small sigh. Jack smiled. He made sure that these cameras could pick up even the slightest of sounds and the video display being no less than HD so he could see it all.

  


And he _could_ see it all. All of the trash strewn around. There was cans of Diet Coke, bottles too, ranging from all of the ounces. Empty Marlboro and Camel packs were trailed around the floor and even a tipped over ashtray spilled out all its contents to stain the carpet underneath The latest trash came from a recent addiction to KFC as their boxes and plastic bags were all tossed around. He saw Ryan stepping over the trash before heading towards the chair.

  


“ _Fucking glad to be home.”_

  


“I'm glad you are too,” Jack answered, but of course the DEA officer wouldn't have heard him. He allowed himself to relax even more so leaning back and beginning to undo the button of his shorts. He smiled as Ryan also did the same, but instead to actually take off his pants and toss them to the side so that he could roam around in his boxers. Jack chuckled, reaching inside his shorts to pull out his half harden cock and circle his hand around it. “What are you doing, cute boy?”

  


Ryan plopped down in the chair, beginning to undo the trail of buttons that secured his shirt before also tossing it away. He had another, smaller shirt underneath, much to Jack's disappointment. “No wonder you are so hot. You don't allow your skin to breathe by wearing two shirts like that. Goodness, that's why you need someone to look after you. That’s not the right kind of undershirt, baby.” He sighed through his nose, giving his cock a couple leisurely jerks. “Being dumped in all of that trash. God, who would let you live like that? I know I wouldn't.”

  


On the monitor, Ryan grabbed the remote to put on some T.V and immediately turned to grab his laptop – the television was always for the background noise.

  


“You've never had a proper Daddy to care for you, huh?” Jack smiled, hand working just a little bit faster as he could feel the sparks running through his body at his own words. “Come to me, pretty boy, and I'll care for you.”

  


His cock started to fatten up in his hand and he gave a soft moan, looking back and hoping that the boys wouldn't be hearing him. He bitched about every time they jacked off to Ryan, but here he was doing the same thing. Soon after, he just waved it off and directed his attention back to the man on screen and he smirked. Ryan was continuing to browse on the computer, expression unchanging and so Jack closed his eyes as he finally found a good, slow pace that drove him crazy.

  


“ _J-Jack...I-I've never been – oh!”_ Jack could almost hear Ryan begging so hotly. He tightened his hand, pretending like it was the cute hole that he always enjoyed looking at. Tight, hot and wet, he would be wanting to pound into Ryan so hard, but he would force himself not to. His little boy deserved all of the pleasure he could get and he would be glad to give it to him.

  


“Hush, hush,” he cooed to his thoughts. “You're doing so well-” He gasped as he squeezed his cock just right, feeling his cock leak a fat bit of precum. “O-oh yes, you're doing so well. That's it, little boy. Just relax and let Daddy take good care of you.”

  


Ryan would to rock in his lap, stubbled lips slotting so perfectly into Jack's with a thirsty tongue trying to lick all around and explore.

  


_D-Daddy..._ Blunt nails would be pushing into his skin while his own fingers would travel up to pull at his scalp that had all of that gorgeous, golden hair.

  


“That's it, baby,” he reassured once again, sliding his hand over the tip of his heavy cock, thumbing at the sticky bit of precum that seeped out. “Gonna take good care of you.”

  


A shuddering breath was drawn in and he stopped the movements, huffing out and trying to wave away the image. It was too hot for him to even picture and he cursed as he tried to hold back his approaching orgasm. He couldn't even begin to think of what the real affair would be like if he was already this sensitive with thinking about the DEA agent's pretty ass riding his lap.

  


Jack directed his attention back to the monitors, only to see Ryan's face twisted in what looked like embarrassment. His lip was bit back, brows raised in curiosity with his eyes plastered to the laptop screen.

  


“What are you looking at, sweet boy?” Jack asked himself, cock still hard in his hand, but he gave a sneer when he realized all that Ryan was looking up as he began to hear the laptop making small, needy noises. “Dirty thing.”

  


It sounded like two cute lads playing with each other, especially with how much breathless cursing there was. He could see Ryan shifting in his seat, eyes still remaining set on the image.

  


“How cute. It looks like my pretty boy is getting a little too uncomfortable.” Jack snickered, especially at how quickly Ryan was to slam his laptop down. Jack pursed his lips in curiosity when Ryan got up, but it was relieved when he saw that tent that the other man was sporting in his boxers. “Oh, fuck,” Jack grinned. “Fuck yes...”

  


He rolled the chair gently over to the tri-monitors that displayed a perfect 360 view of the DEA officer's room. One upper right corner, one by the window for the perfect side view, and one focused on the bottom of the bed to give a full length view. Ryan walked in, shutting the door and plopped on the bed with a small _oof_.

  


“Come on, baby. You gonna give Daddy a nice show?” the ginger sighed happily as he could see Ryan laying down on his bed, cheeks flustered and red and even a lusty smile on his face. Jack could only imagine what that face would look like in between his legs, or the expression that Ryan would make as he is fucking him good and hard.

  


It was almost a scene when Ryan was slipping off his boxers. It was as if it was purposeful – _just for Daddy_ – with how teasing the movements were. Ryan's cock sprang out, standing straight and hard before he had tight and fast hand around it. The movements were so desperate that they caught Jack's attention in the best of ways.

  


“You don't waste any time, do you?” Jack licked his lips. “Cute thing, I wonder what you're thinking about.”

  


The officer held back an audible moan, knees folding in and fanning out. Jack drew in a sharp breath, eyes growing wide as he now had a _perfect_ view of what he was really wanting. Ryan pressed the back of his head deep against the pillow he was on, chin pointing up. His breaths were labored and heavy, and Jack felt his chest grow light as he saw those thick toes curling in pleasure.

  


Jack pressed on a level and zoomed in the bed-focused camera, getting closer, between those thighs.

  


The muscles in Haywood's lower body were _tense_ and then, Jack found the true prize. He purred softly. “Goodness,” he chuckled. In between those cheeks was a perfect little hole that seemed to flutter with every movement that Ryan was making. As those toes would curl, that rim would show more and Jack squeezed his fingers around his cock. He could only imagine how _tight_ the DEA officer would around his fat cock and he could feel that searing tingle in his body from the thought.

  


_D-Daddy..._ Jack imagined how easily Ryan would spread for him as soon as he walked into the door. Being on his knees, ass in the air with those fingers spreading apart his cheeks so he could have that easy all access to that ripe hole. He grinned as he looked at Ryan's movements getting more and more greedy. His hair was spread out in uneven rays, the messy bun broken free for a cliche halo.

  


“ _God_ ,” Ryan huffed and Jack whistled.

  


“I'm thinking the same thing.” He tilted his head and pressed the zoom button on the upper right camera. One was still showing those perfect cheeks and dry, clenching hole while the other gave him a full body view. The camera adjusted, beginning to pan closer to the agent. It caught on the flawless view of his lips opened just slightly and relaxed with those melodic moans that Jack only wished were for him.

  


He panned the camera down just in time and he saw abdominal muscles flexing as Ryan curled forward. A shattering breath was heard and Jack had landed the frame in full view of the officer's cock that was now sputtering with cream.

  


“ _Shit!”_

  


“Fuck,” Jack saw the mess spurt and roll down the sides of Ryan's length until it was gathered up by his hand as he rode out his orgasm. Jack gave his own little huff before he also felt his own edge coming up close before he was pushed over. He gritted his teeth as he felt warmth trail over him, his hand becoming smeared with liquid heat and he fixated his eyes on Ryan. He cursed because he knew he would have to clean this up before he could even touch the equipment properly again.

  


With one finger he zoomed back out, now having the full view of Ryan totally spent on the bed, muscles no longer tense, but now fluid against the sheets as he laid down. There was small, wet stripes on his skin and Jack thought that this image couldn't be anymore appetizing.

  


“Soon, doll.” He licked dry, thirsty lips. “Very soon...”

  


xXxXxXx

 

The DEA received almost a thousand tips a day, and that was just between their two Los Santos offices. When it came to Ryan’s cases, Kerry was sent the ones that were marked the most legit, and once they were sorted through they were finally put on the older detective’s desk. They were almost all trash but one from the latest batch stood out to him - a voice message. The young man on the line had sounded too calm and his voice had been a low husk, a gravelly tone that reminded him of the voice of the Third Shooter. The one who’d left the note folded up in his top drawer, the one he couldn’t pin down after hours of interviews and fine combing the area (even following the tunnel, but it had only led out to the street). The man on the phone had echoed street rumors: Funhaus had been going rogue, breaking away from “Big Daddy” and trying to strike it on their own with the coke crowd. He’d described a hideout house of theirs, a common hang out spot.

  


Going on gut feelings, Ryan had taken the tip serious enough to call in a small team of flatfoots to back him up. Kerry had tagged along too but he’d been skeptical, unsure why a brief phone call with an abandoned building address had outshone other tips with more specific location descriptions. But he was quiet, letting Ryan’s experience guide them above anything else. But he did pitch a fit when he’d been left a block away with the other cops while Ryan had gone ahead to check it out.

  


“Eager brat,” Ryan griped quietly with an edge of fondness as he found an open side window. A quick glance around inside showed the building truly was condemned - coated in dust, run down, nearly empty, and absolutely littered in trash. _No need for a warrant then._ Bracing both hands on the ledge, Ryan lifted himself up off the ground and through the window, landing inside with a surprisingly soft thump for someone his size. All those years of jujitzu and tai chi, of studying karate to keep his rage in check - they were useful for something. _Because I’m sure as hell still pissed off about everything but now I can do something about it._

  


Ryan drew his gun and his flashlight, keeping them raised but the device clicked off for now. He could see enough in the living room but he wasn’t sure how the other levels fared. He gradually made his way across the room, eyes scanning for any side of powder or anything that would indicate the gang had been here. A few dirty needles, some cigarette butts, cans of beer - but nothing suggesting the harder stuff. It stank like skunk weed but that was child’s play.  

  


There were sounds coming from upstairs but he couldn’t pinpoint what they were exactly. A fight? Someone in pain?

  


He got to the stairs and recognized the sound of a man moaning. It wasn’t in pain. _God damn it, I’m going to run across a couple of hobos fucking._

  


He took the stairs as quietly as he could but with proficient ease. The upstairs was much more rough. There were doors on all the room but it was almost comical in contrast to the state of the walls, drywalls and boards torn apart in large patches. He followed the noises to the far side of the floor, careful with his footsteps to keep his own noise down. There were definitely two people, males, maybe some of the FH gang having some fun. He could hope at least.

  


Ryan dropped down to one knee beside a hole in the wall, gun ready and ears tuned. There were rhythmic moans and grunts, the thump of a frame against a wall and the protest of box springs. He frowned, waiting for more voices, wondering if there was an ambush waiting on him. He plucked his radio from his belt and sucked in a breath for the order to get back-up.

  


“God fucking damn it, how do you stay so fucking tight with Geoff in your ass all day…”

  


There was a rough, low chuckle. “Daddy’s a rough ride but I’ve got some good fucking tread.”

  


The other burst out what sounded like a surprise laugh with a breathless edge. “Jesus Christ. You’re lucky that doesn’t kill my boner.”

  


“Shut up, you’d love to fuck a car. Freak.”

 

  
“Bitch.”

  


Ryan lowered the radio, brow furrowing up. His mind fizzled with white noise. Usually he was quick on his feet, analytical, years of experience and a natural intellect forging an instinct that hardly led him wrong. One of those voices sounded familiar. He ducked his head down and kept at a hidden angle, peering through the hole. _Jesus, they’re actually fucking._ He almost looked away but a throaty moan made him pause, keen eyes taking in the two men in their lust.

  


They were rutting like dogs. Both were lean with muscle and stained in tattoos, pierced mouths gaping in sheer pleasure. Pants had been shucked down around their knees, just enough to let them get at each other.  Dark, scarred skin pressed against freckled, pale curves as one fucked hard into the other. They came together in short, rough jabs that brought a hot flush to their cheeks. The top had short, dark hair and his sheath had a shorn crop of cinnamon curls. He was absolutely covered in freckles and Ryan’s mouth went dry at the thought of their texture, how different they’d feel beneath fingertips and tongue.

  


“Fucking shit,” the top huffed out before falling forward, draping over the other and bracing one hand on the bed, the other slipping over a hip and down to grab onto a drooling cock. Ryan’s grip faltered on his gun as he watched the top’s tight ass flex with each eager hump, driving his cock nice and deep into his partner. He felt his fingertips twitch with the urge to grope and he wondered when he’d become a teenager.

  


“Michael...fucking little..”

  


“Mm-hm, Ray, just...like that,” the paler man moaned with a temptingly coy tone, put upon but no less sexy. There was a rush of heat in Ryan’s gut but he grit his teeth, ignoring it. The top’s face was hidden but he seemed to be biting the other’s shoulder, tucked close around him as he tirelessly rutted into his ass. Even with him fighting off a hard-on, he could appreciate how easily they moved together, how comfortable they seemed in an abandoned building within the “wrong” side of town.

  


There was a sudden smirk from the bottom. “You gonna’ try and knock me up like Daddy does? Try and breed me like I’m a fuckin’ bitch?”

  


His partner visibly shuddered on top of him, clinging tight, back curving up like he was trying to keep himself from coming. There was a strained, rough grunt of _little fucking whore_ before the thrusts picked up again, faster now.

  


Ryan fiddled with his radio, subtly pressing it against the bulge in his slacks for an ounce of relief. These men - he’d seen them before, but his brain was mush and he had a hard dick that needed to be put down before he went back outside. He wrestled with the choice - he didn’t want to cause a scene over nothing, but if these guys were the real deal? Was this a set up or a coincidence?

  


He eased his grip on the radio and sighed. If he was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t want to interrupt. _I want to stay and I hate myself. Fuck this day._

  


Ryan pushed off the wall and hurried as fast as he dared back to the steps, taking them two at a time. If these were actually criminals he didn’t want to start a shootout and bolting was the best option. His blood was still running hot but he forced it down - this was no time to indulge in stupid fantasies. He got to the window he’d come in through and took a moment to collect himself, adjusting his pants and taking a few long breaths to slow his heart. He started up a simple calming technique. _Breath in pure, white smoke...breath out ash...positive in, negative out...breathe in pure - what the fuck is that?_

  


Ryan spotted a small scroll tucked into the window frame. It hadn’t been there before, he’d been sure of it. He may have been in a hurry to get inside but he was certain he would have spotted the clean roll of paper among the pure filth of this place.

  


He hesitantly plucked it up, sticking his head out the window to briefly glance around and even giving the floor a minimal sweep before daring to unroll it. It was the same neat handwriting with dark, sure ink.

  


‘ _He might have run off then, and thus avoided a great many adventures to come, but the girl cried, “Wait!” and he turned to face her. “Please,” she implored from the window. “Don’t go. Come with us. I promise you won’t regret it.’_

  


Ryan’s heart skipped, cheeks flushing dark at the implication. He felt light-chested, a little breathless, and then embarrassed. He crumpled the paper and shoved it deep into his pocket. Someone was getting to him, getting under his skin, and he was falling for it. He couldn’t bring himself to discard the little note but he didn’t want to look at it again.

  


Whatever agenda this person had, whatever plan they were laying out - it was working, and that infuriated him.

  


The noise upstairs increased. A loud, whorish moan seemed to flood the room and a pulse of _need_ rocked Ryan’s body. “Nn, come _on_ , I - _ah_ , thought you’d like it!”

  


“You’re such a bitch!” Lust saturated the angry bark and it sent a spark through Ryan’s spine that made his hands ball up into fists. “Of _course_ I liked it!”

  


“Don’t be so mean!” It was a silly, playful whine and then that voice knocked down to a deeper, gravely tone that reminded him of the Third Shooter’s own. “You know you’re a little slut for it.”

  


Ryan jumped out the window so fast he nearly rolled his ankle.

  


xXx

  


“If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have done it.”

  


Ray’s fingers were fisted tight in his hair, forcing him nearly face first into the gross mattress and he got the roughing dicking he’d been goading for. Despite the fact that everything smelled like old sweat and stale beer, he was grinning and rock hard. His fell open in a moan that was obnoxious to his own ears but Ray was doing that short-jabbing-thrust thing that made him fucking light headed and he loved it.

  


“Nn, come _on_ , I-” Michael breathed out sharply, curving his back and making sure his ass was at the perfect angle to hit that sweet spot. He knew he looked like a whore face-down-ass-up like this but it felt way too good to give a shit. “Thought you’d like it!”

  


“You’re such a bitch!” That sharp tone did wonders to his cock and Michael bit back a whimper. “Of _course_ I liked it!”  

  


They were all highly aware of Ray’s secret voyeurism kink. He loved being watched, but usually he was told ahead of time or found out. Having the Special Agent watch them was probably the sickest of thrills. _I know I’m fucking loving it._

  


“Don’t be so mean!” Michael whined playfully. He sat up suddenly and Ray faltered, falling back on his haunches and grasping desperately at his hips. Michael sat himself in the other’s lap with a sharp grin, taking his dick to the hilt and baring down tight to make his boyfriend hiss. He fit well in his lap, one hand reaching back to thread in dark hair and tug. Ray grit his teeth and tried to fight it but Michael’s hips were rolling in circles and he could only hang on, fingers digging into his meaty waist for purchase.

  


Michael brushed his lips over his partner’s scruffy cheek. “You know you’re a little slut for it.”

  


Ray melded against him, pressing tight and wrapping his arms around his waist. He moaned softly as Michael squeezed around his cock and licked at his cheek. “You like having us watch you. I could feel your cock twitching at the fucking _mention_ of that cop watching us. He was probably staring real hard at your sweet ass, that pretty dick, these fucking thighs.” He groped at Ray’s thigh, the other choking on a whine and pushing harder into him. “He’s a hot piece of ass, you’ve seen the pictures and the cams.I bet he’s got a thick cock just _waiting_ for us.”

  


“Shut up,” Ray half begged, huffing as Michael started to bounce a little harder on his cock.

  


“Bet he saw you fucking me and he got a stiffy thinking about how hot _you_ are on your back,” Michael teased mercilessly, sweating under his t-shirt. “Bet he’d fuck you wide open and make you cry like a little bitch and Daddy would spank you both afterwards for making such a fucking mess.” He continued to talk over his boyfriend’s pathetic whimpers, though his own voice was threatening to break with how good he was getting ridden. “He seems like the type to break some fucking furniture but he looks like he hasn’t gotten laid in forever. Geoff will have to keep him on a tight leash so he doesn’t fuck us raw the first day.”

  


Ray’s teeth dug into his shoulder and he could feel the sharp pinch through the shirt.

  


“Now fucking come in my ass and let’s go home.”  


 

Ray barely managed to pry his teeth off him so he could be understood. “Only if you tell Jack about this when we get back. He’s going to want to eat you out.”

 

“Deal.”

 

xXxXxXx

  


It was familiar. The air around him was musty and dank, his feet surrounded with a flurry of needles and cigarette butts. His gun was nestled carelessly in his hand, fumbling with each step that he took into the house. He knew he had one thing of his agenda - find the crew.Take them out.

 

Ryan felt nervous, shaking so much that the gun felt heavy, his fingers clumsy where they curled around them around it. He stopped moving when he heard sounds coming from an adjacent room and he froze.

  


He was leaning against a rugged, old wall that had a sizeable hole and he got down on his knees to look through it once again. It acted as a window, seeping with wanton noises that filled his ears like a symphony. He wouldn’t deny that it sounded absolutely gorgeous. He took in the beauty with a glance of his eye, seeing a flash of bare skin. There was a window against the wall, giving a beam of moonlight that allowed Ryan to fully see the scene that was taking place. Porcelain, plush cheeks were on display, groped mindlessly by thin, tan fingers as the top rammed in with hungry thrusts. Ryan remembered this scene all too well and he smiled when it clicked in his mind.

  


The moans were lovely and sounded like sweet coos from a heated sexkitten. Nothing rough, harsh, or crude in anyway. The bottom’s back was curved in a smooth arch to show off a path of flawless skin along with a devious looking tramp stamp that hung low on his tail. It was a deja-vu with the only exception that there were no curses in the air, this time.

  


_It’s a dream_. The agent smiled wickedly, raising a brow in curiosity and he put his gun back into his holster.

  


Suddenly, the noises stopped and he looked into the hole to find out the reason why. He saw two pairs of lust-filled orbs staring at him.

  


_Shit._ Ryan nearly bailed out, but it wasn’t until there was a sweet mew that stopped him along with the remembrance that this was a dream.

  


“Hello there, Special Agent,” said the boy with the curly, auburn hair - _what was his name?_ \- Michael.  The other, Ray.

  


“Are you here to arrest us?” the other one asked, rolling his hips a bit just to get another couple of thrusts out if it was to be their last time before being put into cuffs.

  


Ryan’s pulse roared in his ears at the fusses of disappointment and dismay, but he cleared his throat so that they wouldn’t move.

  


“I won’t put you under arrest,” he paused, trying not to smile at the looks of relief on their faces. They both mewled happily, Ray rutting up into Michael once again to continue, but Ryan kept talking. “If you promise to follow through with everything I say.”

  


“Yes’sir,” they both said and Ray slipped out of Michael with ease, making the other one squirm in delight.

  


“Why don’t you come on inside?” asked the one lying on the mattress. His hand was curled around his cock, giving it a couple of short tugs. Ryan grinned and nodded before heading to the door. He nearly knocked it down from how weak it was and he stepped in with a smile.

  


“My, my,” he drawled. “You two chose wisely. Why don’t you go ahead and make some room for me?”

  


The boys obeyed, scooting to the sides of the bed to invite Haywood into the empty space they left. Ryan walked close, crawling into the old, noisy bed with heavy knees. “Kiss me,” he ordered. He got a good look at the shark bites that Michael had. Two lovely, metal rings that twisted on both sides of the Lad’s bottom lip. The flesh underneath looked so warm and tasty that he gave a content sigh when Michael leaned in to their their lips together. Ray kept out of the way, rubbing his hands down the creamy sides of the older Lad. The agent enjoyed the kiss, taking thick, open palms and sliding them against Michael’s exposed pecs, thumbing at the nips to get them hard and budded.

  


“Can I have a kiss, officer?” Ray whimpered gently, trying to pry Michael away for his turn. The other resisted, but gave way as the agent let go of his embrace on him and headed to Ray. Cold metal snakebites nipped at his warm lips when they kissed, but it only sent jolts straight down to his cock. Michael  littered random kisses all over the side of his neck, stroking smooth fingers around his nape before actually trying to bite.

  


“My, aren’t you two excited?” Ryan had that low, roused rumble to him that made the two visibly shudder. They were like putty in his hands, trying to curiously palm at his pants to pull them off. “I want you two to do something for me, only if you don’t want me to arrest you.”

  


“Anything, Mr. Officer,” Ray mewled happily, Michael nodding in agreement.

  


“I’m aching. Why don’t you go ahead and pop open my pants?” Ryan chimed.

  


The two were at it immediately, crouching low on the mattress and trying to undo Ryan’s pants. It didn’t take long and when they were finally undone, a tent poked through the opened fly. The agent sighed gratefully, especially when he already had two tiny mouths trying to cup over his clothed cock.

  


“Too sweet to me, aren’t you two?” Ryan moaned slightly, thumbing over his underwear, pulling it down until his cock was exposed. The air was slightly chilly and sent shivers down his spine, but it was quickly resolved as soon as Michael wrapped his lips around the very tip of his cock, sliding down smoothly. Ryan had to hold back a breath, tilting his head and just adoring the sensation that he hadn’t received in so long.

  


“Little cock whore,” Ray muttered, but looked up at the agent with puppy eyes, seeming to wait for his command. Ryan sneered, raising a brow.

  


“But he’s a pretty one at that. Come here,” he yanked Ray by his shoulder and pulled him in for another kiss. The younger Lad made a delightful noise and Ryan gasped against his lips when Michael flicked his tongue in the most perfect of ways against the dip of his cockhead. “Oh, yes. Why don’t you bend over and let me have a good look at you?”

  


Ray winked and twirled his hips a bit, before turning around. He landed gracefully on his elbows, taking Ryan by storm with how gentle he looked. The light scuff of hair along his body made the agent growl, especially as Ray lifted up his ass, spreading opened his knees to present beautifully.

  


“Tight,” Ryan complimented, thumbing against a plush cheek. He pulled it back slightly, exposing, surely, a cute, puckered rim. Dark hair trailed from under Ray, coarse and black like a raven. “You ever had anything in that sweet ass?”

  


“N-no, sir,” Ray cooed, wiggling around a bit. Ryan had no idea if the answer was true or not, however it didn’t deter him. He looked down to see Michael staring back past long lashes, eyes shimmering in the moonlight looking as innocent as they could be. His lips were still on his cock, trying to sink lower on the thick shaft. a warm palm cupped over his sac, massaging it slowly and Ryan growled possessively.

  


“Well, why don’t I be your first?” Ryan pulled away from Michael with a small _pop_ , the tip of his cock slick with spit. “Oh, that isn’t enough. We’ll need a lot more than that.” Ryan ran his tongue through dry lips and teeth, lowering himself down to give a sweet kiss on Michael’s rosy cheek before directing himself towards Ray once again.

  


“My, look at this,” his voice trailed off, hands cupping the rounds of Ray’s ass and spreading the cheeks apart. The youngest gave a gentle croon. His rim twitched against the pull, showing off a bright, lovely shade of pink against the darkened skin. “Beautiful.”

  


Michael nodded, kissing his chiseled chin before whining with small, thin fingers wrapping around the thick base of his cock. A cute tongue curled itself around his length, running all around. His eyes saw just how hard Michael was, cock perched in the air and leaking with thin pearls.

  


“Why don’t you go attend to Ray? Kiss him a little bit and make him happy?”

  


Michael had those lidded, lusty eyes and he smiled before crawling over towards his lover. He left a little trail of kisses up Ray’s body and finally met his lips. The sounds they both made sounded needy and it only made Ryan harder as he settled in between the youngest’s legs. “Such a pretty color you have, don’t you?” He let his tongue slide, nearly jumping at the desperate and _sinful_ sound that Ray made in return. He chuckled, smiling around his tongue and closing his eyes as he moved his tongue around, indulging on a rich, enticing taste that he couldn’t even describe. It was _warm_ and the way the muscle fluttered around his tongue went straight to his cock, leaving a smear of precum all over the sheets.

  


“Oh, God,” Ray sang breathlessly against Michael’s lips. The older boy reached for Ray’s cock, giving it a few nice tugs to make Ray squirm restlessly. Ryan purred, fingers clamping tight on those cheeks so that Ray wouldn’t move so much. He dove his tongue inward, hearing a shrill gasp when he did so. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

  


Ray was very tight, clinging around Ryan’s tongue and the agent could only imagine what his hole would feel like around his cock. The walls were heated and slick, tasting as sweet as candy. Ryan took his hand and palmed at Ray’s swollen sac, knowing that he was close from the way the his was beginning to rock back on his tongue.

  


“So tasty,” Ryan managed to say as he pulled away, leaving a loving kiss on the skin before sitting up on his knees. He’d neglected his cock to where it was fat and straining with want.

  


Ray backed up instantly on his cock, whining when it didn’t slip in like he wanted it to and it only slide across his cleft. Ryan had to laugh gratefully at the sight.

  


“C-come on, Mr. Officer. I want it. You don’t have to prep me or nothing; I can take it. I’m already wet enough,” Ray wiggled his ass as it for proof before Ryan grabbed a hold of it. He moaned from the words and finally wasted no more time. He rocked back to aim his length against Ray before pressing in, tossing his head back as he entered. The youngest held back a squeal that was muffled by kisses.

  


_God_. Ryan wanted to maintain control, but he nearly lost it at how well the Lad took him, allowing himself to be fully seated on his cock without even the slightest of hitches. His nails dug in and he leaned forward, draping himself over Ray’s back in a huff.

  


“My Lord,” he gritted out as he began to move, wanting to get on with it. His pace was already rough and had no rhythm except for greed. Ray whined loudly under him, clenching tight to spoil his cock. He grunted primitively, the smacking sounds of skin on skin filled the air and when it was all said and done, he could barely breathe.

  


~

  


Ryan dry heaved when he woke, sick with arousal and self disgust. He threw back the sheet and gave a heavy pause to make sure he didn’t have to make a sprint to the bathroom. The feeling faded so fast he wasn’t sure if it had been real but he was grateful not to be sick. He let his head fall into his hands, elbows braced on his thighs as he concentrated on just breathing.

  


He’d never had dreams that vivid before. Everything felt so real. Tight rims and warm, smooth lips and softly furred thighs.

  


Ryan breathed out sharply, scrubbing a hand over his slack face. He couldn’t be doing this. A couple petty criminals (who had impeccable aim and maybe a heavy handed) were fucking with him and he was falling for it like a fresh faced newbie. They were probably more Funhaus underlings trying to throw him off track and he wanted to find their stupid tattoos and brand over them with his badge.

  


The realization made him snarl out loud.

  


He wasn’t sure what he was more mad about - that a clumsy coke-snorting gang like Funhaus could get such hot fucks to work for them, or that those men that were tempting him so we’re just fodder for the gang and would end up in body bags once this game was over.

  


xXxXxXx

  


It was a common drug raid, run of the mill. Ryan had only gone to supervise, smoke, and clear his head. The rats had scattered after the first wave of flatfoots and he grinned around his smoke as skinny, tweaked out brats scrambled out of windows and tried to make a run for it. One in particular caught his eye - cropped curls, pale skin standing out in the dead of night, ripped up old clothes and quick feet. Ryan barely had a moment to toss his cig before bounding after the boy, ignoring Kerry’s confused shout as he darted off down the sidewalk. The kid was quick, much more quickly than the others, but he got tripped up on his own shoes. They were falling apart on him, the laces dangling, and they were easily kicked off to clog away and be left behind.

  


The kid got a burst of speed from his new freedom but Ryan was on him, pouncing cattishly and seizing his shoulders. The kid gave a shout of surprise before he was whipped around and slammed face down on the nearest car with a painfully loud _thump_. Ryan sunk his ‘claws’ into the boy’s shoulder while he yanked his arm up behind his back. The other thrashed

  


Ryan palmed at the lump in the kid’s pants, wallet popping out and sitting perfectly in his palm. He kept the other pinned with one hand, thumb flipping open the worn leather to expose the foggy plastic over an ID. It didn’t look legit but if it was fake it was well done. “ ‘Lazer, V. Michael’. Simple name for a feisty shit and fake as hell. So, _Lazer_ , why did you make a run for it? Something to hide?”

  


“Maybe I was just done being there.” A Jersey accent peppered a throaty laugh, lips twisted into a cocky grin. “Or maybe I just wanted to be _here_.”

  


“Sure, kid, whatever you say,” Ryan scoffed as he tossed the wallet on the hood. “Let’s take a short ride in a nice car and see what kind of petty crimes are branded onto your file. Maybe you’ll get a warm night inside, street rat.”

  


Ryan’s satisfaction at catching a using brat cut out when he felt a firm ass rub against his crotch. It caught him off and a nice, slow grind made him bite his tongue.

  


“Knew you’d remember me.” Michael tossed a smirk over his shoulder, looking smug. “Bet you couldn’t forget me, Officer.” The agent’s stomach bottomed out and his cock twitched within his expensive slacks. “Yeah, I saw you watching, you sick fuck. Did you enjoy the show?”

  


“Why were you there?” Ryan rasped, feeling as if he’d smoked a pack instead of just one cigarette. There was a burn from the base of his gut to the back of his throat, the guilt of getting caught. Michael shrugged one shoulder but that damn look didn’t leave his face. _This kid is coated in freckles. If he wasn’t such a little shithead..._

  


“You little fuck.”

  


“That’s exactly what I am,” Michael snickered. “Bet it’s all you’ve been thinking about, pig. We’re a hundred times better than porn, always have been. How hard did you beat your dick remembering how good he fucked me?”

  


Ryan seized the kid’s arms in an iron grip, digging in his fingertips to try and get him to shut up. “You think you’re so clever-”  


“And I bet good fucking money you thought Ray was hot,” Michael countered. “It’s classic smut, isn’t it? ‘Puerto Rican twink fucks willing red-headed slut.’ You can’t write better than that. He’s got that fucking _ass_ and his dick is pretty thick for a small dude. Feels pretty damn good, bet it’ll feel great when you’re jerking him off and fucking him so good he-”

  


Michael’s words dissolved in a hiss as his shoulder was grabbed and yanked up, joint straining painfully. Ryan dragged the boy up with an intent to take him back to his car but the rascal was quick. He got a flash of a grin before Michael pressed up flush against him and rolled his hips back into him, ass grinding firm against his half-hard cock. Silky soft curls brushed his cheek and when he breathed in it was clean linen and cinnamon and gun oil, a dash of dirt and gasoline from the filthy house. His mouth watered and that plump ass felt amazing against his hips, fitting too perfectly.

  


Ryan’s hands slipped down to seize those cuffed wrists, keeping them pinned together, but that didn’t stop Michael. The kid leaned back and brushed his cocksucking lips against his ear, breath hot enough to blister. When he spoke it was in a low, throaty gasp. “God, Daddy wants you so badly.”

  


Ryan’s breath stuck hard in his throat and he tried to pin Michael back to the car but his hands were weak, he couldn’t pry them off the cuffs and chain. His stomach felt tight and his cock ached, plumping up, wanting to do more than simply press against such a tempting ass. He wanted to rut between those fleshy cheeks, tease that tight hole, slip inside and give them both what they were craving. He could almost smell the lust rolling off Michael’s hot little body and he wanted to explore those fine muscles for himself, to map the boy out and brand him with his teeth. He wasn’t sure where this sudden desire came from - he’d been fine being alone for so long, taking one night stands or going without. It had never been very important to him.

  


Not until now. Now he was practically drooling just for a lick into that smart mouth.

  


Michael bit below his ear and drew a rough gasp from his throat. It was sharp and sure, the boldness startling him, cutting into his nerves. He tightened his grip on Michael’s wrists but he couldn’t say a word. They were all jumbled in his gut and he could feel a fresh sweat starting at the base of his back, the nape of his neck. The dream came back to him and he wanted to hump him like a dog.

  


“You should feel hot fat his dick gets when I tell him how much I want you to fuckin' wreck me,” Michael husked, sending a new heat into the older man’s gut. “Damn, Officer, he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re gonna’ be such a prize.”

  


Ryan sucked in a breath and in that moment he was lost, sinking into those filthy words.

  


Michael leaned heavily against him and he instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist, hand spreading out to feel the firm curve of his stomach, muscles flexing as if the boy had been craving his touch. Lips brushed his ear against, puffs of breath bathing the skin. Ryan’s eyes closed and he gave a moment to let himself soak in the attention. It was was shockingly intimate to have this stranger in his grasp, straining against him, offering up his throat and belly in primal submission. It was dark, no one would see, he could just thumb off his glove and slip his hand up under the boy’s shirt. He wanted to know if his nipples would be puffy and soft or tiny and stiff. He wanted to feel them kiss his palm, listen to the boy’s sounds as pleasure pulsed through him.

  


Ryan gave in and dipped his head a little to inhale at the soft of the boy’s throat. _I wonder how he’d sound bouncing that sweet ass in my lap._

  


“Haywood!”

  


Kerry’s voice cut through the fog like a blade and Ryan’s hand shot up from Michael’s stomach to fist into his curls, slamming him face down onto the car hood. There was a wet _crunch_ and an agonized groan but he ignored it, scowling at Kerry as he ran at him. The young agent was panting as he stumbled to a stop beside him, red faced and confused.

  


“You just ran off,” Kerry griped, glancing at the thug. “Who’s that?”

  


“Some shady kid with a fake ID,” Ryan grunted. “I bet if we question him he’ll crack, tell us if the powder in there came from one of our crews.”

  


Ryan lifted Michael up and actually winced at the mess there. He’d slammed the kid a little too hard and there was a fresh gash on the bridge of his freshly crooked nose, red flowing thick down over his lips and smearing down his chin. He heaved a breath and little red flecks went everywhere, a grin showing off cherry teeth. His face was flushed, freckles disappearing under the color that would churn into bruises later. Dark eyes were glazed over but Michael was smug. A slick tongue ran over his teeth with a sharp, sucking sound and his grin was cattish. “Was that as good for you as it was for me? Now if you give me a good backhand I might cream my pants.”

  


“Shut up.” Ryan shook him like a pup, getting a laugh out of the kid. “Move it.”

  


“Yes, sir,” Michael purred, shooting a wink at Kerry as he was pulled away from the car and shoved forward. “If the car starts rockin’, don’t come a-knocking. Well, you’re kind of cute, I’ll let you in if you promise to blow me while this big guy fucks me.”

  


Kerry’s ears turned blood red and he watched his partner take the bloody kid away with a firm scowl. “W-wow…”

  


xXx

  


“What do you mean he’s walking?” Ryan snapped at Zech. The processing agent merely blinked at him over her glasses, exasperation etched all over her face.

  


“Listen, Haywood, there was nothing on him and you busted his mug, what do you want from me?” Arryn tongue clicked and Ryan knew he’d lost the argument before it’d really even started. “No immediate traces in his blood, nothing on his clothes, and even if his name is fake that ID is as real as we can tell without sending it away to get tested. He needs to see a doctor and we can’t keep him any longer without slipping into shitty legal territory.” The young agent’s pushed up her glasses and turned back to her computer. “Literally the only thing I did was save his lawyer the trip.”

  


He tisked lightly. “Fine. That’s what I get for trying to do my job. Let the tweakers run around on the street like animals.”

  


Ryan’s hands balled into fists and forced himself to turn around so Zech couldn’t see the pure rage clawing across his features. He didn’t want anyone to know how badly this seemingly  random street punk had gotten to him. He didn’t need the attention or the questions that would follow. He’d have to let this one go. _Fiery little urchin. Why were you in that building? Who the hell are you?_ He scrubbed a hand over his face. _Are you actually important or am I fixating?_

  


He caught a glimpse of movement and his eyes tracked it. Two officers were escorting Michael past the half-glass walls of the pen. The kid’s face looked like it had been attempted to be cleaned up but the skin was still stained a dark pink, the wound now covered up with a haphazard application of gauze. He was whistling, bouncing along between the officers, and when they got to the end of the hall they promptly left him, obviously annoyed.

  


Ryan made a split decision and went after him, keeping his pace and steps calm so he didn’t attract too many eyes. He cut Michael off in front of the exit and looked the boy over. He’d need stitches but he looked like a proud peacock so any empathy or guilt the agent had faded away.

  


“You’re a lucky brat,” Ryan scoffed. “And slippery.”

  


“I can be,” Michael teased. That sensual voice had a wet edge to it now from the clot of blood in his nose and sinuses, more nasally. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a resetting and two weeks time. “Sad you couldn’t sink your claws in me?” The boy tisked with a fresh grin. “But it’s not really your ‘claws’ you wanna sink into me, is it?”

  


“You’re filthy street trash,” Ryan scowled. “That’s all. You’ve got a foul mouth. Probably works well on your Johns.”

  


“If you mean my boys, then yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, hips cocking just enough to make his shirt ride up. “It’s cute how your go straight to degradation when you get defensive. I’ll remember that. Couple of us are pretty into humiliation. And a couple others...well, they’ll punch your teeth out.” A dark glint tinged those doe eyes, turning them predatory. “That’ll make it easier to suck cock, if nothing else.”

  


“Foul,” Ryan repeated, ignoring the flush of warmth in his gut. There was a question he had to ask, a name that had been burning in his mind. He didn’t want to say it aloud but he just had to. Now or never. “So that kind of talk is for your ‘boys’...what about _Daddy_?”

  


Michael causally closed the last of the distance between them, going slow enough to keep from triggering anymore defensive instincts. Ryan tensed and puffed up, staring the boy down as he got much too close. Pale, dirt-smudged digits came up but there was something tucked against his palm.

  


“Daddy’ll be happy to know you asked about him,” Michael drawled, slipping the note in Ryan’s front pocket. He winked at the agent before taking a step back. “It’s only a matter of time, Officer. I’ll see you soon, okay?” His tone dropped low. “Keep dreaming of me, Big Guy.”

  


Ryan gaped, absolutely dumbfounded as Michael skirted right on past him. Whistling picked up before fading out as two sets of doors closed between them. He couldn’t deny the stiffness between his legs but he fought it off, blinking through the fog and letting his feet take him to the nearest bathroom. He needed a few moments of contemplation and to splash some cold water on his face.

  


It was mercifully empty and he took his time walking to the sink and shedding his coat, letting it hang on one of the few hooks on the wall. He uncuffed his sleeves and rolled them up - methodical, the ritual becoming a focus point to settle his mind. He washed his hands in icy water and then swiped them over his heated cheeks. He dried himself completely before daring to look in the mirror.

  


_You look tired, Haywood._

  


Ryan plucked the object out of his pocket and he frowned deeply. It was a scroll. A whirlwind of thoughts swept through him. Was Michael the Third Shooter? Had he been the anonymous tipper? Was the kid apart of Funhaus or was there someone else behind it? _Are you a random kid or are you more, Michael?_

  


After a long pause, he unrolled the scroll and read the neat script there.

  


‘ _All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.’_

  


Ryan hastily shoved the paper back into his pocket and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. “God damn it.”

  


xXx

  


The evening sunset painted the smog-tainted sky a wash of deep oranges when Michael walked into the mansion-esque safe house resting on the mountain. The view over Los Santos was photogenic, the young man glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the cityscape as sprinkled lights began flickering to life. It was one of their more showy safe houses. Their main spot in the city wasn’t nearly as flashy. His nose throbbed a bit with each exhale, and with a sigh he regretted with a wince of pain in, he kicked off his shoes and made his way to the nearest first aid kit.

  


“Damn,” a rough voice stated and Michael turned his head towards it with a small gasp. “Don’t even say ‘hi’ or anything. You just decide to bleed everywhere?” The boss smiled as he leaned against the doorway, tilting his head in relaxation. “What happened to you? I thought you were better than this. Your schnoz is all busted up and you look like you just walked out of a pretty good lookin’ fight club.” His eyes trailed down, sneering just a bit before he raised them back up again. “Explain.”

  


Michael rolled his eyes, ignoring the sneer and pushing down the butterfly feelings Geoff’s smile gave him at first; he schooled his features, keeping both smirk and scowl off his face to prevent further pain on his nose. His nose was hurting like shit, most likely broken, and he was sick of inhaling and swallowing his own blood. He opened up a cabinet drawer and pulled out a rag, wetting it under the kitchen sink before dabbing it on his bandaged nose with a silent hiss. “Ran into some pigs from the DEA while I was checking out the area.” He muttered under the wet cloth, shoulders relaxing at the cool relief on his face. “Saw a very particular person there.”

  


Geoff smiled, raising a brow before talking some slow strides towards the boy. “Is that so, little boy?” He clicked his tongue as he knew exactly who Michael was pertaining to, but he decided to ease off the mocking and torture for now.

  


“Mnph.”

  


“Here,” he offered when he finally reached to the drawer that had the first aid kit. He grabbed a roll of gauze and medical tape. “Get yourself washed up and I’ll help you. You need some new dressing - that one is shit now.” He waited for Michael to finish up washing his face, smiling fondly when the boy almost turned towards him and prepared to slip off the bloodied bandage he already had.

  


“M’kay, Daddy.” Michael sucked in a deep breath, quickly prying off the police station bandages before he turned the faucet on again and held his face under the running water. The blue cloth in his hand turned a deep purple as pink water swirled down the drain. “You know what isn’t shit?” Michael’s voice echoed from the metal sink basin. “Ryan’s upper body strength, hot damn.” The falling water brought more pain to Michael than he thought it would. He adjusted his angle so it fell down his freckled cheek and slid across the swollen, bloody area.

  


“I think it might be broken in more than one place.”

  


Geoff got a good look at the injury and actually gave a little smile. “Of course it is,” he said in both of the statements that Michael made. “He gave you a good licking, didn’t he? God damned.” He prepped the gauze into small tube-like rolls and then eased each bit inside Michael’s nose. The boys scoffed and tried to pull away but stopped under a firm look. “It’s to set the nose when I tape it, dumbass. You want it to heal wrong? You want Caleb to have to rebreak your nose to set it properly?”

  


Michael relented. _Boss knows what he’s doing._

  


“What a sight this is. I almost feel like it should be left out in the opened.” Most of the area was bruised, leaving a lovely shade of purple that covered the bridge of his nose and even those fine cheekbones. Blood was already seeping out again, leaving little drops on the floor that Geoff would be happy to clean up later. Michael looked up at him with big, lusty eyes, managing that wicked smirk.

  


“I swear, I was so close to ripping down those pants.”

  


“Were you?” Geoff licked his teeth. “Tell me more, baby boy.”

  


Michael’s breath hitched, a stutter in his expanding chest. Geoff’s voice hit a sweet spot in tone, raspy and coy and reverent and just enough to shoot electricity down his spine. Michael looked into Geoff’s baby blues, making contact through his own swelling and Geoff’s half lidded expression. It almost looked like Geoff was uncaring, but the soft smile and Geoff’s warmth softly pressing against him tells Michael otherwise.

  


“God, you should have seen him. The asshole doesn’t know how to dress himself. His shirt was too tight on his arms, but his work jacket and pants are hanging off him like he’s some sort of fucking twigged orphan, and _God damn_.” Michael hissed, memories of the hot heat Michael pressed against back against flooded back to him.

  


Geoff snickered as he placed the tape over Michael’s nose, being firm to keep it in place. The Lad winced a bit from the pain but he relaxed as soon as Geoff briefly stroked his inked knuckles over his cheeks.. “Oh, I know. Jack gets a real kick out of the way he dresses. I swear he needs a fucking mom to look over him. I don’t even know how he functions half of the time.” He placed the bandage in its proper place. “But, I’m proud of you, baby boy. I bet you played him like a God damned flute.”

  


“You know it, Daddy,” Michael gave that wink that made Geoff flash teeth. After he finally spread out the bandage evenly, he thumbed at Michael’s cheeks.

  


“I should shoot his dick for hurting your cute little baby face.”

  


Michael scoffed, a smile tugging the corners of his pink lips. “You’d need a fifty cal bullet for that, fucking shit. His dick is so huge.” He felt a rush of heat trickle through him at the phantom sensation of Ryan’s thick shaft, how Ryan’s control had slipped as Michael rutting up against him. Michael pondered what would happen if he had managed to slip into an alleyway before he was caught, if he had been pinned up against a brick wall instead out out in public view. He wondered how undone he could make Ryan, how long it would take until Ryan snapped and started rubbing up against his ass like a dog. His cock twitched at the thought of it, and Michael didn’t hesitate to press his palm against the fly of his pants.

  


“A few more minutes, and he’d break like a twig.” Michael rasped, leaning into Geoff’s hand.

  


“A few more minutes is all we would need…” Geoff smiled warmly as he placed another small strip of tape around the bridge of Michael’s nose. He could feel the fractured shift and he _knew_ that it was broken in more than one place. Nevertheless, his expression never dimmed. “Proud of you. Being that snarky little bitch you are and getting away with anything. I bet all he was thinking about was that sweet, little ass. I hope you teased him well with it,” he finally dipped down for a kiss - just a smooth, soft graze of their lips. The way Michael fell into it made his heart flutter, especially when that little tongue tried to lick all around and gain access to his taste.

  


“He’ll be ours soon, right?” Michael mumbled into it, his fingers dancing along Geoff’s smooth stomach and playing with the fabric resting there. He flinched a bit when their noses brushed against each other, so Michael pulled back and instead rested his forehead against Geoff’s. Michael couldn’t quite keep eye contact with Geoff, as a sudden ache welled up from the pit of his abdomen. He wanted Ryan, but the thought curdled his stomach a bit. _An addition, not a replacement_ , Michael reminded himself , but it was quickly waved off with a small growl that he gave himself. Of course he wouldn’t be replaced, not the way Geoff treated him like the fucking prissy puppy he was. It was just that small insecurity he always hated and he wanted to shoot it every time he thought about it. He supposed it was the way he felt in Geoff’s arms like this, melting like ice from the warmth that his Daddy gave and he’ll be _damned_ if he were to have that taken from him. No fucker like Haywood would ever be a better Daddy’s baby boy than him and he’d fight for it if he had to. It was possessive and selfish, but Geoff was all his and the old man knew it. No matter how badly he wanted Ryan. (Their other partners didn’t count, he was completely comfortable with them, but that had taken time.)

  


Well, they all wanted Ryan. From his physique to his mannerisms to his snark and wit to his expressive face. No one was getting replaced, and Michael felt the curling sensation settle only a fraction when Geoff ran his padded fingers down Michael’s neck.

  


“Of course he will, baby boy,” Geoff mumbled, wanting to give a kiss to the boy’s nose but deciding to brush lips across his cheek instead. “You know me. I always get what I want and you _know_ how badly I want him.” His voice was on edge, as if trying to give a possessive growl that wasn’t fully formed yet. The fingers that belonged to Michael made him shiver and his eyes lidded with both sleepiness and lust. He licked his dry, chapped lips, mind beginning to wander as he continued to look into Michael’s eyes. They were beautiful. The way they gave off that glowing caramel warmth and looked so innocent, but the Boss knew better. He imagined that cute face twisting up in pleasure with Haywood behind the magic, rocking into him and making him give off those sweet noises. “I know how much my boys want him too.”

 

Michael couldn’t help the whine in want, and he rested his head against Geoff’s shoulder, one hand rubbing up and down the ink on Geoff’s arm. He pressed his eyes into the crook, curling his neck so his tender nose didn’t touch too much. The knotted sensation hadn’t died down completely, even with Geoff’s soothing words. The tenseness in the younger man’s shoulders was a subtle constant. The nagging in his gut wouldn’t leave until he was totally appeased with their new relationship development.

  


Michael’s deep exhale was soft, and it warmed Geoff’s clavicle as his soft voice filled the silence. “Does he really want us like we do for him? _Will_ he want us?” Michael whispered, his ears straining as blood thumped through them too loudly. He would be surprised if Geoff couldn’t hear his thickly thudding heartbeat.

  


Geoff’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Oh, he will. He already does want us, can’t you see it? You have to tell me there is some sign of him wanting to join us; he just does’t want to admit it. Frightened, probably - what a little kitten he really is.” Geoff finally pulled away from Michael, still holding him in the cradle of his arms.

  


“I’m still so proud of you,” he hummed. “Working your magic like that, standing up for yourself. You’ve learned well, haven’t you?” Geoff flicked a couple of strands of auburn hair from the Lad’s face, making him giggle. “Don’t you worry your pretty, little head. It’ll be like shooting fish out of a fuckin’ barrel before it’s all said and done with.”

  


Michael pulled his head back up, mostly to admire Geoff’s fond smile. “I can’t wait for Ryan to come home.” He smiled, the knot in his stomach dissolving into butterflies. He loved seeing the sparkle in Geoff’s eyes as he said that. “Thanks for patching me up, Daddy.”

  


Michael smiled his best Cheshire grin. slipping out of Geoff’s arms and walking out of the kitchen. He felt the intense gaze of his oldest lover as he walked all the way to the long couch set in the middle of the living room. The beige furniture contrasted nicely with the almost too white floor, and it added a relaxing, warm tone to the room. Michael turned and fell backwards, back onto the orange, overstuffed pillows Jack was far too enamored with, for some reason. From where he laid out, Michael could see down his swollen nose to keep eyesight with Geoff.

  


Michael’s eyes were half lidded, but it had more to do with a headache than work and the lethargy from his exciting time at the police station. With a lazily crooked finger, he curled it towards him in a ‘come hither’ fashion.

  


Geoff was slightly surprised in the best of ways. He growled like a roused cat, doing an over exaggerated _me-ow_ and obeyed, slowly coming forward to Michael is a long strided gate. “What?” he purred, knees hitting the couch and letting his body weight fall until he was crawling on the couch. His knees pinched the sides of Michael and he got a harsh “Ow, motherfucker!” before he finally settled in, knees straddling Michael and their faces close to touching.

  


“Get over it. You got clocked in the nose and you’re gonna cry over your sensitive sides getting kneed? Pussy.”

  


“Fuck you,” Michael was careful, but he kissed Geoff fully, arms clinging onto the Boss in a gentle touch. Their harsh tones never meant a thing to each other and their actions _screamed_ compared to their words. Geoff gladly took in the kiss and licked into it, tasting sweets and delights that was his boy’s mouth. He could only imagine what it would be like for their target to join in with them, though, standing close, patiently but eagerly awaiting his turn.

  


_Soon, he will break_. Geoff grinned into the kiss.

  


xXxXxXx

  


Ryan winced at the pain shooting through his feet. He’d taken a small, hand-picked team on a tip to another abandoned building tip and this time they’d struck gold. Machinma, a medium sized gang with solid black ‘M’s tattooed on their napes, had been rumored to be dealing blow from the same local source. The same source that could maybe lead other agencies to the Fake AH crew, maybe even to the rumored Cockbite. He didn’t care about the glory but he felt like a predator with the first taste of blood. Chasing ghosts of tips had left him with a thirst for the hunt and he wasn’t going to let any drug gangs take root in his city.

  


He only wished he’d worn better shoes for a run-down.

  


Kerry was beside him puffing along but more than keeping up, just as determined as he was to catch these guys. Five on foot, and their team was in a car circling around to catch them off guard. Then the gangsters split, three and two, the pair taking off across the street and the three disappearing around a corner.

  


“Call it in, Shawcross! Take those two!” Ryan barked, gesturing sharply. Kerry looked a little skeptical but he nodded, bursting with a second wind and cutting away. Ryan took a sharp right, trying to follow, but they were already gone from sight. He made a quick decision and darted down a side alley. It was carved between two towering buildings of brick and iron railings and windows, straight out of _Spider-Man_. There was no one immediately in sight, only dumpsters and empty boxes and shadows.

  


He made it a good way into it before he realized it was a dead end. There was someone at the end and it was the only reason he didn’t turn back. Ryan slowed to a fast walk and closed in, hoping it was one of the gang members. But this man didn’t seem like one of the rats they’d chased out of the building.

  


There was a tall fence that closed off the alley and the man was leaning against it, cool as anything, casual as a Special Agent cornered him. Ryan looked him over, the streetlamps and the lights from the dozens of windows spattering the tall brick walls on each side of them. Ruffled dark hair and sun-kissed skin, a strong brow. He was dressed rather plain except for the leather jacket hugging tight around his waist and broad shoulders, a dark scarf wrapped around his throat. There were silver stitching of little moons and stars on it, looking handmade. It covered his mouth but not those eyes. They were dark and set below those heavy brows, sharp and observant.  

  


Ryan felt the man’s gaze like a sting and he wasn’t sure what to say so he drew his gun and pointed it right between those calculating eyes. “DEA. Show me your hands.”

  


“I’m unarmed, Special Agent Haywood.” That voice had a lilt to it, slightly muffled as it was. Deep but with a rough, intimidating edge that didn’t sound put upon but strangely natural. There was an unusual guttural in what had all the makings of a smooth voice. It made his gut tingle, wanting to know the anomaly, but he let it go for now.

  


Half-gloved fingers rose and snagged a silver zipper, dragging it down to reveal a sweet slice of chest from the dip of his neckline. Ryan clenched his jaw and forced himself not to get distracted. All the business with Michael had rattled him more than he’d wanted to admit. A libido he once had in a steel grip now slithered in his gut like wild snakes, twisting around one another and building up a heat. It seemed like every handsome face was prone to setting him off. _It’s like I'm a teenager again. How boring._

  


“See?” The stranger pulled back the flaps of his coat, showing the ends of his scarf and the tight fit of his shirt. Ryan tried his best to stay professional but his eyes traced that thick waist and he memorized the exact curve of it. He felt lecherous under the other’s smolder but he did check for the bulge of hidden weapons. Nothing around his ankles or stomach, not even a swell in the thin, fitted leather. It was more for show than warmth.

  


Ryan wondered briefly how it would feel pinched between his fingers.

  


“I’m unarmed,” the man stated firmly, holding up his hands and showing each side. “Nothing to hide.”

  


Ryan’s lips pursed. _Has he been following me?_ “Except for how you know my name. You seem to have an advantage.”

  


“Do I?” There was a throaty chuckle before a single finger hooked in his scarf and lowered it down under his chin. Ryan’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of a firm, pink mouth and a round, close-shaven jaw. “You’re the one with the gun, Special Agent.”

  


Ryan tightened his grip on the gun and purposefully reaimed at the man’s chest.

  


“Dan.”

  


“What?” Ryan bit out.

  


“My name,” the other clarified calmly. “I read somewhere you’re less likely to get killed by an attacker if they see you as a person. And now you have the complete advantage - a gun and my name.” Those dark eyes roamed over him, examining him in turn. “So you’re the one Daddy wants.”

  


That word struck a cord in Ryan and he lowered his gun. “I hear a lot of talk about this guy. Anything you want to give up, Daniel?”

  


Dan scoffed lowly. “You only know what he wants you to know.”

  


Ryan rolled around the right words. “So you know Michael too?”

  


The other’s shapely lips quirked in a half smile as his gaze wandered again. “Handsome up close. But can you kill?”

  


Ryan’s brow pinched up. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  


“ _Streetfighter_ ,” Dan deadpanned. He lifted a gloved hand and tapped his finger in the air. “And it’s multiplayer.”

  


“What kind of shit are you pulling on me?” Ryan demanded hotly. He was ready to raise his gun again when he heard the race of feet on pavement. He whipped around and spotted the three gangsters he’d been chasing. A calm chill filled his chest and he holstered his gun. _The Chief wouldn’t like a pile of dead bodies to explain._

  


“Stay back,” Ryan ordered, slipping a small baton out of his belt. A wash of protective urges swamped him and he put himself between the gangsters and Dan.

  


Dan gave a small smirk, drawling, “Cute.”

  


Ryan flicked his wrist and the baton extended, the sound alone making two of the gangsters back up. He let them come to him and he let his training take over. He easily drove his baton into their shoulders, their chests, rattling their joints and ribcages until they gagged from the bile that welled up in the back of their throats. He gave them each a crack to the knees and they were down for good, moaning and bloody-nosed. Satisfied they wouldn’t be getting back up, Ryan pulled out three pairs of cuffs and managed to hook them all together. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  


Ryan lifted his radio to his lip sand was about to call his team back when he remembered the stranger. “Daniel?” He frowned at the empty spot that had once held the other. There was some fresh scuff marks on the wood but other than that there was no sign of Dan. _Sneaky bastard. Who were you? Were you here on purpose or am I soaked in coincidences lately?_

  


He sighed and clicked on the radio. “Shawcross. I’ve got three of our suspects on the corner alley of Fourth and High.” He smirked at his partner’s reply. “No, take your time. And call ahead to have a medic on standby at the office. Yeah, they’re not going anywhere.”

  


xXxXxXx

  


The Third Shooter and his mysterious connections to a street rat and a mystery scarfed man kept Ryan up at night. He mulled over the possibilities, rethought Funhaus and Machinma, but even with looking up smaller branches of wanna-be gangs he couldn’t find the connection he needed to link all these “coincidences” together. There was no true evidence to back up his vaguely baked theories, only chance encounters and a few keywords.

  


Maybe “Daddy” was some kind of ringleader, or maybe it was just a couple random thugs fucking with him to get under his skin. He floated the idea of Michael and Dan (if those were their real names, which he doubted) were involved in some up-and-coming gang trying to needle at the DEA to cut their teeth on the streets and build a fast reputation.

  


The obsession with the Funhaus case made everything under his skin _itch_. As much as he prided himself on a keeping himself separate from his cases beyond the urge to solve them, this one - these people - had gotten to him. He was starting to get paranoid. The few objects on his desk felt as if they’d been moved, his chair askew in a way he was sure he hadn’t left it. Kerry had promised him that no one had approached his desk and a quick view at the security cameras confirmed his statement. Then he started to get the same feeling in his own home. His nerves were on edge, skin prickled in hyperawareness as he stalked through his apartment every evening looking for some kind of sign someone had been there.

  


No fingerprints, no tracked mud, no new scuffs - nothing to prove his thoughts were anything more than pure paranoia. He usually slept with a gun under his pillow but he’d taken several more out of his safe to stick under the couch, in the bathroom, and in the kitchen. It got harder to sleep, every creak or whisper of wind feeling like someone closing in on him. He knew it was from a poor diet and lack of sleep, but that didn’t make his trickles of fear any less pungent.

  


His fingers and teeth started to itch with that urge - that _hunger_. In the early hours before the sun rose, Ryan found himself sitting in the middle of his living room with a scatter of files, fingers flicking through pages in the search for a rapist or murderer who had escaped the clutched of the local task forces. Someone who deserved his rage, someone no one would miss.

  


But he couldn’t indulge. Not with the chief watching him so closely, not in the middle of the Funhaus case. Too many eyes, too many chains binding him. He’d bide his time.

  


Ryan was a cautious predator.

  


Until that moment came, he had to keep chasing his tail.

  


“Shawcross,” Ryan husked into his cell, tugging on his pants as he listening to the other man mutter sleepily. “I’m going to ground zero of our Third Shooter. If you don’t hear from me every fifteen minutes, send someone.”

  


” _What is with you and this Third Shooter? Do you really think someone that skilled is running Funhaus?”_

  


Ryan had to remind himself that Kerry was still green and that he couldn't judge him too hard. _He’s a nice kid. A bit small picture, but nice._ “Maybe. Fifteen minutes starting now.”

  


xXx

  


He shot a text at Kerry when he arrived. _Fifteen minutes, Haywood, don’t be careless._

  


The parking garage was all but abandoned, peppered in a few run-down cars but nothing really worth protecting. On this side of town, he wasn't surprised if this place was little more a dry place for the homeless and a shady point to deal or use. The graffiti and litter appealed to Ryan’s gritty side but brought a sour disgust to the back of his throat. He was no stranger to to the darker side of the streets. In fact, he thrived there, but squalor and ugly addiction made him sick.

  


The spot wasn’t hard to find. There was still remnants of the crime scene - a shred of caution tape, crushed coffee cups, boot prints in the grime. The cement pillar he’d once leaned upon was just as uncomfortable when he put his back to it. Ryan sighed heavily and let his eyes trace the patterns in the gravel and dirt scattered across the floor. There was a piece of evidence he was ignoring, pierces that had gone uncatalogued. The scrolls. The slips of paper he kept locked up in a safe box at his apartment. No matter how many times he told himself that they could be crucial to figuring out this puzzle but he felt...selfish. Those had been made explicitly for him, and to submit them as evidence would only raise more questions and cast more attention on him. That was the last thing he wanted.

  


As strange as it felt to even think it, he didn’t want to share them with anyone. They were special, _his_ , and for anyone else to look at them would somehow make them _less_. If he had his way, no one would ever see them.

  


Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long suffering sigh. _What am I doing? It’s two in the morning and I’m downtown just asking to get robbed._

  


A crunch of gravel beneath shoes, the spark of a cigar getting scraped across the pillar in the corner of his eye - Ryan drew his gun and turned. “Not another step.”

  
Adrenaline shot through is system with a heavy dose of confusion. He had honestly expected a desperate addict or a towering thug, a blade to tempt him to give up his wallet. The man in front of him now was...he couldn’t describe it. A dark coat wrapped up broad shoulders and a thick waist that promised muscle. He was only a little shorter than himself but there was something rolling off him, some kind of palpable power that made Ryan back up a step and bump into the pillar again. The set of the man’s shoulders, the upturn of his jaw, the unyielding advance - it spoke of someone who would not be moved.

  


A thin shaft of light flashed over the man’s face and Ryan’s breath caught low in his chest. Dark, sleepy marks were smudged under the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were sharp, crystalline, and they were hyper-focused on _him_. A dark, scruffy beard laid over his jaw and down to his pale throat, highlighting firm lips. Messy hair and twin dark hoops in his ears did not distract from the thick, tattooed hands and those sure steps. It was a casual intimidation that Ryan wasn’t used to.  

  


“I said not a step closer,” Ryan croaked, wincing at the crackling in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Identify yourself.”

  


“So formal.”

  


Ryan pursed his lips at the man’s whiskey-rough voice. _The Third Shooter._ He wouldn’t forget that voice for as long as he lived. Ryan tightened his grip in his glock and let it balance on his other wrist, keeping the textbook pose to hide the slight tremble in his hands. It wasn’t fear, no, but something deeper. He kept his back tight to the pillar and his sights aimed right at the man’s mouth. He flicked the safety like a challenge but it didn’t even bring a pause.

  


“Who are you?” Ryan demanded, trying to figure out what was clogging his throat and sticking his feet to the ground. “Are you following me, asshole? Do you know how fast I could have you locked up.” He snarled, his very ribs shaking, nerves fizzling so hard he could almost hear it. “You won’t see daylight again. So just take about a dozen steps back and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  


“Shh, baby,” the man hushed firmly, closing in that last step. Ryan kept his gun steady, refusing to move an inch as the man tried to back him in. Inked fingers rose up and touched his hands, light and warm, sending goosebumps down his arms despite the warm night. “That’s it.”

  


Ryan flinched, faltering so hard he was sure uncertainty was written all over his face. That blazing blue gaze seared into his own and he watched his gun quiver. He tried to force out an order, to make him stop, but nothing came out louder than an noisy exhale. He wanted to throw a punch, to shoot him right between the eyes, to order him to back off - but nothing happened.

  


“What…?”

  


Ryan gaped as the man’s lip parted and a dark pink tongue laved over the end of his gun. He could feel the gentle pressure against his palms and it struck him in the gut. Dark lashes did nothing to hide that intense gaze and Ryan couldn’t even bring himself to blink, afraid to miss a moment and get overpowered. There was something so intoxicating about such a slow, intimate gesture against something so dangerous. He could have easily squeezed the trigger but it didn’t go farther than a thought. There was no urge, no need to hurt this man. Not one drop of him felt hostile - only frazzled.

  


_I don’t have to hunt down anyone. My prey came to me._

  


Usually those thoughts were full of pure heat, sharp hunger, but now it felt put upon. This was no prey before him. This was another predator. A snake had entered his lair and he couldn’t do more than stare at him.

  


“Clean,” the stranger murmured, giving one last, long lick before shooting a wink at the agent. He started to back up from Ryan, almost reluctant to leave, before turning away. Ryan’s jaw dropped like he’d been backhanded. He felt insulted and he wanted to bark at him to come back, to explain himself, to explain _everything_. But again, nothing came out. He watched, dumbstruck, as the man walked across the lot and hopped onto a bike.

  


With a flashing of a headlight and an engine rev, the stranger was gone.

  


The gun clattered to the pavement with only a brief muscle memory reaction to flick the safety keeping it from going off. Ryan huffed loudly and scrubbed a hand over his face, knees wobbling so hard it startled him. He leaned heavily on the pillar and slid down, gravel biting through his pants and stinging his thighs. His gaze slowly dropped to the filthy ground and he focused on his breaths. His chest rattled and he sounded no better than the engine had.

  


Ryan clenched his hands into fists and let his nails bite into his skin. _What was that? What did I just do? I could’ve snuffed him out right here, I could have taken the Third Shooter’s teeth as a trophy but I just stood here like some probie. Practically pissed down my leg._

  


He struggled to stand up on rubbery legs but it was almost impossible. _He made me weak. That no name bastard...no one’s ever made me fumble like that._

  


Ryan grit his teeth and got to his feet, shoving his gun back into his holster and heading with quick strides back to his car. He unlocked it and practically threw himself inside, teeth grit so tight they ached. He fisted the steering wheel, leather creaking loudly under his grip. He thought of bright blue eyes and a talented tongue and it only made a spark strike up in his belly. He slammed his palms onto the wheel before digging his fingers in harder, growling.

  


“God damn it.” Ryan dropped his head down to rest his brow on the cool leather, blinking dully at the design on the horn. He gave a great sigh and tried to calm his racing heart before it knocked him into nausea but he caught a glimpse of a crisp white scroll and he snarled. “ _God fucking damn it._ ”

  


xXx

  


Geoff actually stopped at the first red light he came across. The street was empty but he needed a moment to himself, just a few seconds before he was surrounded by his boys again and their needy hands. He tilted his face up to the muddled night sky and let the breeze kiss his scruffy cheeks. He wet his lips and moaned softly at the taste of metal and polish lingering on his mouth.

  


_Haywood_ . He closed his eyes briefly, grinning at no one in particular. _You’re doing so well. Playing your part so damn perfect. You’re gonna’ be ours soon enough, sweetheart._

  


He couldn’t wait to take care of their poor Special Agent. Put him on the path he deserved, the path he was born to tread.

  


_Our filthy little cop._

  


xXx

  


Ryan fumed all the way home. He couldn’t bare to open the scroll, too afraid he would shred it to pieces without so much as a glance. He kept it tucked in his pocket, out of sight. He stormed into his apartment and stripped down to his boxers, double checking the locks on every window and the doors just to give himself something to do. He took a long drink out of the sink before giving in and trudging to bed.

  


Scroll in hand, he flopped down into the messy pile of bedding and kicked up the smell of musk and old detergent. He had a fleeting thought that he should take better care of himself, of the apartment, but as always that thought was weak and took a back seat to everything else. He lifted the scroll and frowned at the crisp paper, thumb teasing the edge. He frowned deeply, twirling it for a few moments to let the paper glide along his skin.

  


Ryan shifted more comfortably and unrolled the scroll over his head, squinting at the neat ink. The streetlights fought his curtains and won, leaving enough light to read by. He looked the words over a few times but it was hard to comprehend, mind fuzzy from the late hour. He wrapped his lips around the syllables, voice husking in the air.

  


“ ‘For otherwise he would have lost faith in his power to fly, and...the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it’.”

  


The scroll fluttered to the bed and he stared curiously up at the ceiling. All of these words, this poetry or whatever it was...it all felt familiar, like he’d read it before. There was a musical lilt to them, something innocent with a darker undertone. .

  


“ _Either way, Haywood, you’re mine. You just don’t know it yet.”_

  


He’d never forget those words, and now he had a face to go along with them.

  


When his thoughts dissolved into a swirl of static, Ryan closed his eyes and finally let himself get some sleep. He had to be up in three hours anyway.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Ryan. Roots go deep.

The apartment was acrid. Almost a full pack of smokes later and he wasn’t hungry anymore, his nerves felt smoothed over, but he was feeling a little sour at the edges. His cheap suit was ragged, flaring open at the collar and tie long gone. He’d gathered his hair up in his fist and slapped a rubber band around it but the strands were messy, spilling over the back of the couch and touching his cheeks, his throat, probably smelling like old sweat and cigarettes. One dangled still lit from his lips as he let his head rest on the couch and his eyes idly trace the cracks in the ceiling. 

  
  


The coffee table was strewn with files about Funhaus and their known associates, including what little they had on the Fake AH Crew. A few informants, suspects, and one person in particular whose file would be altered with a report on how he skipped town before it was returned to the station. He carded his fingers through his bangs, eyes sliding over to the plain duffel he’d dropped when he’d gotten home. 

  
  


Inside was only about a thousand bucks and the sealed plastic bag that had a freshly fired gun inside with no serial number to link it anywhere. The money was the only thing worth taking in the man’s whole scummy apartment. The man had been a slippery ex-con, a murder suspect they couldn’t pin, and a cocaine user that had been buying from Funhaus. Word of mouth had led Ryan to that dingy little apartment and it hadn’t taken much to get what little information he had out of him before making him deep throat his gun.

  
  


Ryan might have once called his nighttime activities a hunger for justice. It started slow and by accident. Hunting down suspects off the clock, catching them in the middle of polluting their bodies or fucking too-young drugged out girls, and being hit with the realization that under the law there was nothing he could do because everything he found was from barging in, from violating their basic rights of privacy. He’d tried to play by the book all his life but he’d always had a sick feeling that he was the only one following the rules and they were somehow mocking him for it with their blatant sins. Their crimes. 

  
  


The system was flawed. It was the theme to every crime show on TV, every political YouTube video, in every equal rights speech. While young liberals bellowed about petty criminals getting long term sentences, Ryan got to watch first hand as the  _ real  _ villains wiggled their way out of the crippled grip of the law and went right back to ruining lives. 

  
  


It had happened one too many times to Ryan and he started to crack. He went a little rogue after hours, covering his face in a mask and hunting down the criminals he’d been forced to release as Special Agent Haywood so he could pound his fists into their smirking faces. A bloody therapy that had quickly turned into a bloodlust. It hadn’t been enough. Maybe his urge to “right wrongs” had been too strong to keep contained to just hurting, that extinguishing the flame of evil had consumed him.

  
  


But Ryan knew the truth. He lived in his own mind, he saw the shadows there, his only true companions. He liked it. No - he  _ loved  _ it. He loved snuffing them out with his blade, slitting them open, or blowing them apart with his growing collection of guns. The law couldn’t catch them but  _ he  _ could. It had gotten out of hand and now he couldn’t remember half the faces of the people he’d taken out of this world, couldn’t remember who they were or what they’d done until he caught a glimpse of their connected files while sorting through the cabinets at work. He’d even gone after the lower level criminals, like tonight, just to feel the thrill of crushing them.  

  
  


Then he started taking their money. He wasn’t sure why he started, or when, but black duffel bags started appearing in his car from spur of the moment buys and it seemed natural for him to just fill it with the valuables of his victims. He had quite a stash of illegal money, stuff that should have been in evidence lockers and marked to fill in their yearly budget gaps now sitting under his bed or in his closet. He used it as bribe money for informants, on new guns (which he kept in the hole in the wall behind his dresser like an idiot), and slipped it anonymously to the families of victims when they needed it. 

  
  


His own apartment was a fucking mess. There was nothing in his fridge besides beer and sparse sandwich food, some yogurt, maybe an apple if he was lucky. His cabinet had a variety of canned vegetables, soups, and protein powder. He hated the stuff but he had to be fit for his job, refusing to rest on his badge alone. 

  
  


On the street, his presence went from masked vigilante to cold vagabond. The money made all the difference. 

  
  


Ryan sighed heavily and his head swam with the quotes, now with the voice of the person who’d left them. Low, with a hint of dark heat. And those boys, tricking him into watching them fuck...maybe it was unrelated, but it felt similar. The man with the scarf, the gravely rasp, the quiet power in him.

  
  


Whoever these people were, they were getting to him.

  
  


o0o

  
  


The world was unfocused past the lines of this bed. It wasn’t his - it was too big, too soft, and though the pleasure was all too real he couldn’t help but think this world was an illusion. But with such sweet company he didn’t care. He was buried deep inside his moaning partner, rocking them both in a hungry rhythm as they devoured one another. 

  
  


“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck...”

  
  


It was a smooth, wet fuck and his hands burned possessive paths over smooth, pale skin and the ink that was etched into it. His fingers traced the painted body of a dragon, dragging along scales to make his partner shiver. The man’s pink lips were open to let out the most delicious noises as be fucked into him, cheeks flushed, his entire body seeming to scream for more.  

  
  


Michael clawed into his hair and dragged him down. “Fuck me, Special Agent.”

  
  


Ryan seared a kiss on those pretty lips and bit hard at them, licking into his hot mouth and filling him from both ends. He groped strong thighs and rutted harder into the tight, slick hole that swallowed him up. He ripped away with a gasp and was ready to call Michael a filthy slut but that wasn’t who was below him. Flesh was darker now, stomach softer, arms more toned, lithe. No longer a sex kitten but just as desirable. 

  
  


Ray’s moans were lower pitched and he chewed his lip to try and swallow him but there was a smolder in his eyes. Ryan hitched the boy’s hips up further in his lap and bucked hard, making him bounce against the bed. Ray’s moan was sweet and ended in a breathless, delighted laugh. He said something about how good it was hard to listen, hard to concentrate on anything but the tight rim hugging his cock. 

  
  


Ray lunged at him when his guard was down, flipping him over onto his back. Ryan snarled playfully and cradled his hips between his palms but they were different now. Thicker, skin tan but not as much, and roped heavy with muscle. Those eyes were like Ray’s but lighter, flecked with traces of green, and a jaw that was far sharper.  _ Dan. _

  
  


There was barely a moment to register his new lover before he was being ridden so hard he lost his breath. Dan was merciless, moving sharp and hard like he was the one fucking. The man was scowling in determination, hips rolling so fluidly that Ryan was sure he’d come in moments from the sheer heat of it. Ryan found himself wanting to put some passion on that emotionless expression, to splash true pleasure across those handsome features. He wanted to see Dan smile if nothing else.

  
  


Ryan sat up and cradled the man in his lap, leaning up and seizing him in a kiss. Dan bit at him, panting against his lips. Ryan took those fine hips and rocked him more gently in his lap, drawing it out, but startled when two hands clamped on his shoulders. Dan grabbed his jaw and kept him in the kiss, almost distracting him, but another mouth brushed his nape. Teeth clamped heavy on his nape and he bucked into Dan. He wanted to melt between him and this stranger but there was something else, another presence. He could feel the gaze like a weight.

  
  


Ryan managed to tear away from Dan’s demanding mouth to look around. The world was a smear of color and he squinted to try and make out the spaces in the room, to find a source. A figure snapped into place and he gasped roughly. Dan’s teeth sunk into his neck and he was pinned between two hungry mouths but he couldn’t look away from the man watching them.

  
  


“Geoff,” he choked out.

  
  


The man grinned, crooked and smug. “Look at you.  _ Filthy _ .”

  
  


o0o

  
  


“Fuck!” Ryan grasped wildly for something to write on, the dream already starting to fade. He snatched a pen off the carpet and there was a receipt balled up just under his his bed. He smoothed out the dull paper and pressed it flat to the wall, scribbling furiously as the details started to fade. “Red dragon, game tattoos. Arson.

  
  


Ryan stumbled out of bed and went to the living room. He flipped on the light and winced, waiting for the pain to fade before he started grabbing things. The stacks of folders, a giant map, a marker, and his notebook. He dumped it all on his old kitchen table before shoving it against the wall beside the corkboard he never really used anymore. He tore down the few things he’d been there and tacked up the map.

  
  


“Dragon, dragon,” Ryan muttered as he started flipping open the folders. He’d seen the word paired dramatically with fire somewhere and he felt like it was with Funhaus. A stray gang member or an informant, a picture at least. He tried not to tear them apart in frustration but it seemed like it was just out of reach.

  
  


He moved aside the slim folder for a masked sniper and revealed a tab in plain, black sharpie.  _ The Dragon _ . “Fuck.” He flipped it open and gaped at the few artist renderings there. Golden triangles in a stack, some rendition of a video game character, and a dragon. Full sleeve that curled down the arm and the mouth opened along the hand so flames licked at his fingers. 

  
  


“ _You gonna’ try and knock me up like Daddy does? Try and breed me like I’m a fuckin’ bitch?”_

  
  


That guy, the tattooed one, the bottom. 

  
  


“ _Oh fuck, fuck, fuck...”_

  
  


Ryan could almost hear the high, breathy voice and the tight rim clinging to his cock. He dug into his notes and took it to the corkboard, plucking up the marker and ripping the cap off with his teeth. Everything felt like it was clicking into place, coming together too slow for his tired mind to keep up. The original Third Shooter site, the abandoned building where he’d seen Michael and Ray, the area he’d seen Dan, the apartment he’d killed the Funhaus informant at…

  
  


Ryan frowned at the dots, seeing an almost-shape. He frowned and followed the invisible trail from one dot to the next, feeling there was a fifth point he was missing. He traced his fingers down from each dot and where they met made his stomach churn. He jabbed a dot onto the street he lived and he could almost feel the ooze of ink into his skin. The marker smacked into the topmost mark on the map and dragged from one dot to the next, slanting in a symbol that was a common doodle for children but now meant so much more. 

  
  


Ryan’s mouth dropped as he stared at the star on the map in front of him. 

  
  


o0o

  
  


Ryan had barely thrown on jeans and shoes before running out of the house, finding a spare jacket in his trunk when he got to the address he’d put into his GPS. He’d written down the address that was smack dab in the middle of the star he’d ended up with. He knew it was dangerous and that he was going in without backup at three AM but he didn’t give a shit - he was  _ so close _ . He drove with a purpose, hotboxing his last cigarette and gripping the wheel in a death grip. The city wasn’t dead but it seemed to rumble in protest as he tore his car to the heart of it, searching desperately for the answer to the question that had eluded him for these long months. 

  
  


This could be it. This could be the base of Fake AH Crew. They were leading him to their core and he swore to himself he wouldn’t get into a firefight but he so badly wanted to sink his teeth into them. He wanted to be the first to corner them. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to turn them in but, by God, they were  _ his _ and he wanted to prove it.

  
  


Ryan parked as close to the address as he could. He snagged a long jacket out of his trunk to cover up his disheveled state. He got a flashlight and one of his spare guns, sliding it into a holster before clipping it to his waist. A lot of the streetlights were dull so he flicked on the flashlight and swept it over the sidewalks, shining it up on the signs nearby. One was an old laundromat, the other just a run down building that looked like it didn’t see much more action than taking in strays. There was an alley mouth nestled between them. There was a chain link fence gate but the lock was gone.

  
  


Ryan shouldered it open and slowly took out his gun, keeping it alert but subdued in case a civilian passed by. He hadn’t thought to bring his badge. 

  
  


He cautiously followed the line of the alley. There were hardly any windows this low to the ground but his eyes danced all around, trying to find a hint of movement. The alley spilled to a ‘T’, hitting a brick walls and splitting up on each side to go into the streets once more. Ryan frowned sharply at the lack of...anything. He swept his flashlight across the brick and the grime-matted ground and his stomach filled with unease. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, he’d written off the whole thing being a coincidence after that dream.

  
  


Then his light caught something green.

  
  


“What the hell…?”

  
  


Ryan doubled back to his car and got one of his spotlight flashlights, high powered and ready to drive away the shadows that lurked in that alley. He went back and soaked it in crisp circles of light, mouth gradually falling open as the true image started to form. Black and green spray paint had been applied in a giant, bold symbol. A black circle, a green star within, and a ballsy white stencil of four letters.

  
  


_ FAHC _

  
  


“God damn it.”

  
The logo was one plastered in picture that were folders marked “The Mask” and “The Dragon.” With a sweep along the base of the wall, he spotted a white scroll perched on top of a brick. Ryan did another sweep to make sure he was alone before he approached it, plucking him up and unrolling it with bile burning in the back of his throat. The writing was simple but it hit him hard, grip too tight on the fragile paper. 

  
  


_ Cut the bullshiit. You didn’t actually think this would be our homebase, did you? Loser.   
_ _** XOXO Fake AH ** _

  
  


o0o0o0o

  
“ We need to teach him how to murder better." Geoff spontaneously started off as he slow grilled a rack of ribs out on the deck. 

  
  


Jack barely looked up from his book, lounging on a poolside chair that he had dragged up so he could be near the older man, which also happened to be further away from the water pistol fight Dan, Michael, and Gavin were having near the deep end of the pool. "Tutoring rookies on homicide now, Geoff?"

  
Geoff snickered a bit. "Absolutely. Though he’s hardly a rookie. I’d like to think of him as a skilled amateur."

  
"As long as you get your dick wet." The younger muttered, a bit monotone, but he lowered his book to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings. Geoff could pick out a bit of thought crossing the bearded face, his eyes glancing about.

  
Geoff couldn’t take offense to that. He was aware his train of thought was partly because of the fixation he’d developed for the wayward agent, but Geoff understood Jack wanted the other just as much. He’d caught him glued to the monitors watching Ryan, eyeing the man’s firm muscle and the dark circles under those jaded eyes. Jack was burning through a lot of their favors to gather every scrap of information on Ryan, to watch his every move and keep his fingers on the pulse of the special agent’s life. 

  
  


He knew Jack’s daydreams were full of loving, slow caresses and nips down a heaving chest. Jack wanted the man as much as he did, wanted him in their gang and on the field and in their bed with the same fiery need that was in his own gut. Jack saw what he did in Ryan - a fierce killer, a hungry man with an empty life that was unknowingly desperate for love, for someone to take care of him. Geoff saw a sleek, bloodthirsty wolf to train, another lost boy to add to their family. Jack had the same protective instinct he did but in Ryan he saw a sweet, needy thing who desired to be held, coddled, even protected. 

  
  


And his friend had the balls to call him out for wanting to get Ryan into bed? He couldn't help the almost automatic response of, "Jack please, you minge.”

  
  


There was a pause. “Minge?” Jack questioned. Geoff pointedly ignored him, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

  
  


“He's good, and he's got a fire for it. Itching for the kill." Geoff started waving his grilling tongs, as if the metal claws slathered in hot grease were an extension of his hand. Jack was only a little worried Geoff would splatter hot oil on him. “You've seen it,too.”

 

  
"All about that  _ passion, _ are you?" Jack quipped, drawing out the words to hold the sexual subtext to the foreground. Jack’s lips twitched in amusement over his own cleverness. 

 

  
Geoff gave a side-eyed glare, pausing in his action to turn the meat. "Shut up, dude. He's hungry for it, but he doesn't have the detail bits."

 

  
" 'Detail…  bits?'." A grin slipped from both of their mouths.

 

  
Geoff exaggerated a groan of exasperation. "Oh, my god. Jack."

 

  
"You're stealing vocabulary from Michael, too, now?"

 

  
Michael cut in from his spot on the edge of the deep end. "The bits, Jack!" Jack supposed the conversation wasn't all too quiet after all.

 

  
“ The bits!!” Dan shouted across the pool as he treaded water, holding an ‘armed weapon’ out to squirt his refilled water pistol to spray Gavin, who made a noise of protest before drunkenly jogging out of range. It was good to hear Dan laugh, to see his smile. It was rare to see the Brit let go but when he did it was here with his partners, his family, especially with Gavin.

  
  


Jack couldn't hold back the sigh. "I can't wait for the day we all become the exact same person."

 

  
Michael, somehow overhearing the reply from the other side of the deck, continued. "Don't worry, Gavin would rather get shot than be Jack." And of course, Gavin couldn’t help himself from piling on and giving a bright grin and a thumbs up at the older men in confirmation.

 

  
Jack, and everyone else, laughed, loud and genuine. "Thanks for the input, Michael." He shouted back, dropping his gaze down, back to his book.

 

  
"Happy to help the 'parents' sort out the bickering." Michael gave a mockery of a salute before jumping into the pool right next to Dan, Gavin cannonballing in right after to participate in the alcohol fueled splash fight.

 

Geoff started dishing out some of the slabs of meat but his mind was still on Ryan and how to train him, to keep him safe while satisfying his bloodthirst. Jack watched and with a heavy heart he knew who his friend was thinking about, where his thoughts always were lately.

  
  


Maybe this obsession was going too far.

  
  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan meets Gavin, aka "Buzzard" to the FBI for his scavenger skills and bloody carcasses left in the wake of these "kills".

**Again, shamelessly stole Tony but hey it's fanfic woot. Hope you guys have a great start to the New Year, let's start it with some gayness and Gav's introduction since the prequel <3**

 

* * *

 

 

 

All of Ryan’s hunting for the Funhaus crew felt useless.

  
  


Out of the blue, they showed themselves, and with force. Tracking down a simple tip had led Kerry and a small band of cops into a full blown shoot out between Funhaus and an unknown rival gang, maybe two. It was a hail of bullets and Ryan was drawn to it like fire. He’d been in his car almost across town and he’d heard the call on the radio.

  
  


Kerry was an annoying rookie but he was his partner, and the siren call of bullets and blood called to him.

  
  


It was a mess, a war between an abandoned office building and a parking garage; the cops on the streets dropped like flies. Ryan swung his car into the parking lot of the office building as close to the doors as he could, clipping on his radio and grabbing his gun before rolling out. Gunshots licked at his heels and the rush of adrenaline was palpable, sweet and sharp on his tongue as he ducked  into the building.

  
  


Clearing the front room, Ryan got low and took up his radio. “Talk to me, Shawcross.”

  
  


‘ _I’m taking a team up the garage to take out the shooters. We’ve taken down three now, one casualty. All Funhaus for sure but I don’t think they’re part of the main circle, they look like a bunch of tweekers._ ’

  
  


“I’m in the office building, plenty of cover but it looks a little empty.” He paused. “I don’t hear much.”

  
  


‘ _There’s a sniper on your roof. Well, maybe. We think we hit him._ ’

  
  


Ryan grit his teeth. “You think or you know?”

  
  


‘ _I think. I can’t tell for sure. It happened fast. There’s been a few shots from up there but nothing like there was. The gang that was in there is gone now but the others are fleeing there for cover from us and Funhaus. I think it’s the SA’s but-_ ’

  
  


“God, shut up already,” Ryan snapped impatiently. “What’s the damage of this supposed sniper?”

  
  


‘ _He took down two cops. They’re alive - one caught it in the calf from a ricochet, the other in the shoulder._ ’

  
  


”I’m going to go check on the sniper, take him alive if I can. I’ll check back in as soon as I can. Protect yourself, kid.”

  
  


‘ _You too, Haywood._ ’

  
  


Ryan flipped off the radio and reclipped it before bolting toward the elevator. It was in the back of the building so, in theory, he should come up on the opposite side of the sniper. He kept his gun at the ready and tucked himself into the corner of the elevator, elbowing the top floor button. He was surprised this place still had electricity going through it. He didn’t trust it but he didn’t want to be winded when he met whoever was waiting for him. When the doors opened he cleared the hall before heading onto the floor, checking each room with quick caution.

  
  


He expected some sort of dark, sleek figure. A silent killer with sharp eyes and thick muscle, an opponent, a hard fight. Instead, he found a wounded deer.

  
  


The man had backed himself into the corner like wounded prey, sniper rifle discarded on the floor next to a blood speckled pair of sunglasses. He was young with wild, golden brown hair and just a hint of stubble. Lean, tan, and he looked strong. But he had been shot - either from a ricochet or a lucky bullet through one of the few holes in the wall. Either way, it had struck him good, and blood soaked denim in small, dark gushes. He had his hands clamped over it and they were stained red. His cheeks were washed out and was panting, gold-flecked eyes sharp and dangerous. This wasn’t some tweeker gang member, this man looked trained.

  
  


This wasn’t a deer, it was a sleek wolf.

  
  


“Are you armed?” Ryan questioned, brows knit as he looked the boy over.

  
  


“Do I look like I’d be able to do much more than bleed on you right now?”

  
  


A British accent, muddled like he’d a lot of time with Americans.

  
  


Ryan walked up to the rifle and kicked it aside, though judging by the wound and the small pool of blood he wasn’t sure the young man could stand for long let alone lunge for an attack with a hidden knife. “I need you to relax. You’ll bleed out if you keep puffing like that. Calm down, and I’ll look at it.”

  
  


The man’s lips pursed tight. “Back off.”

  
  


“I’m not going to shoot a bleeding man,” Ryan bit out, creeping closer. “Just keep still.” He realized how sharp that sounded so he softened up. “My name’s Ryan. What’s yours?”

  
  


The Brit snorted, sounding as if there was something he wanted to say. “Oh what the hell? Gavin.”

  
  


“Well, Gavin.” Ryan stopped moving and looked him over once more. “It looks like you need medical attention, _now_.”

  
  


“If I could get down to the back alley like I was supposed to…” he muttered, looking down at his wound. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving here with you.”

  
  


“Why not?”

  
  


“You’re a cop,” he replied flatly.

  
  


Ryan snorted. “So one of us dies or I let you get away? Are you saying those are our options?”

  
  


Gavin nodded tightly.

  
  


Ryan crouched and moved across the room, raising and pressing against the wall to peer out the window. “Place is swarming. Odds are stacking against you. Whatever gang you’re with, they’re long gone.”

  
  


Ryan looked back to Gavin when he didn’t get a response. The Brit looked so damn young - grasping his leg with trembling fingers, bleeding. Golden lashes were wet with unshed tears but he seemed to be swallowing down noises of distress. Ryan had never been so conflicted. “You just sniped two cops. Badly, may I add, but you _did_ , and now you’re crying?”

  
  


“I’m going to fucking die here with bloody rats and pigs,” Gavin choked out. “I knew it was going to happen but not like this.”

  
  


“What did you want?” Ryan asked, genuinely curious.

  
  


“A blaze of glory.” Gavin halved his eyes, hands squeezing harder on the wound. “And to be able to say goodbye. We had a pissy argument this morning, probably why this whole thing fell apart. Weren’t working together like we should.” He was muttering now but Ryan crouched and crawled closer to listen. Gavin was slurring a little, blinking rapidly. _Blood loss._ “Barely saw any of ‘em at all ‘fore we left.”

  
  


He laughed bitterly. “Don’t know why I’m telling you this. Guess it’s cause Geoff sees something in you.”

  
  


Ryan’s mouth fell open as the gears in his mind started going, clicking into place before whirring smoothly. This man, Gavin, was part of the Fake AH Crew. Of course, _of course_. That’s why Gavin wasn’t fighting him like a seasoned gang member would, why he was opening up, why he hadn’t gone after him the second he stepped into the room. This was a wolf after all, and his pack had fled but was nearby.

  
  


Ryan wasn’t sure it was possible but his confliction mounted, swelled. Every instinct he had was pulled in one direction, his training in another. He unclipped the radio and held it to his mouth, staring at the Brit as he mulled over the situation. Gavin slumped in defeat, already picturing how miserable he would be behind bars, how Geoff would have to burn favors to get him out.

  
  


“The sniper relocated.”

  
  


Gavin’s head shot up, eyes wide.

  
  


Ryan cleared his throat and pressed the button down again. “I saw him jump into the next building. He’s heading two buildings down, I’m sure of it. It’s a straight shot. Send a team in there but take out Funhaus. I’d rather take their whole crew than just one mystery guy you may or may not have hit.”

  
  


‘ _Snipers are important_ ’ Kerry defended over the radio.

  
  


“I’ll tell you what’s important - you fucking listening to me, or you’ll be riding a desk for the rest of the week now _move_!” Ryan barked out. He waited only long enough for the confirmation from his partner before he turned it off and put it on his belt once more. Without a word of warning, he walked over and reached down to try and pick the Brit up bridal style. Gavin flailed and pushed him away, showing his teeth.

  
  


“Get off me!”

  
  


“Stop fighting me or you’re going to bleed out before I can get you down there!” Ryan snarled, hefting the squirming form up into his arms.

  
  


Gavin went dead still at those words. “You what?”

  
  


“I’m not repeating myself,” Ryan huffed, squeezing him tighter. “Hold your damn leg and keep still. If you can’t do that I’m going to put a belt on you.” Gavin calmed down, surrendering to what was going to happen. He looked petulant but he stayed calm and Ryan was thankful as he carried his new charge out of the room. “You’re a shitty survivalist, by the way. And a bad sniper.”

  
  


“Excuse me!” Gavin chirped angrily. “I’ve never sniped before!”

  
  


“Not so damn loud,” Ryan hissed, watching the hall and listening for signs of movement. “Then what are you doing up here?”

  
  


“Because.”

  
  


Ryan rolled his eyes at the clipped tone. He carried the Brit down the hall and elbowed the elevator door only for it to not light up. “Shit, they might’ve cut the power. Stairs it is.”

 

 

“I can walk.”  
  


 

“You can’t,” Ryan countered. holding him tighter and kicking at the stairwell door. Gavin yelped and clung tight to him as he got jostled, one hand on the man’s shoulder and the other still holding his thigh. They headed rather easily down the stairs, soon reaching the floor below. “Because why, kid?”

  
  


Gavin opened his mouth but quieted as Ryan heaved them flat as possible against the wall, holding him tightly against his chest. Gavin took the moment to look at the Special Agent - the same one his gang had been watching for months now, researching, baiting, lusting after. Though he didn’t beat his dick to the security camera feed like Jack and Michael, he found Haywood attractive and smart, strong, capable. An asset. He wasn’t wired to be lustful but he did have a certain craving for the Special Agent. Being held like this... it reminded him of Geoff and Jack, of blood soaked protective instincts and contained violence.

  
  


He liked it more than he wanted to admit. _Maybe I can blame it on the blood loss._

  
  


Ryan watched through the window as two men ran by, both yelling quickly at one another and then jumping out the window to the fire escape. _Funhaus_. Those fucks. He hurried down the next set of steps, then the next. Gavin wasn’t any heavier than the sacks of weapons he used to haul as a trainee and his muscles didn’t burn but they warmed.

  
  


“Because I’m useful.”

  
  


The words were whispered, barely heard over heavy footfalls. Ryan wasn’t sure he’d heard it at all, that he was making it up, but Gavin continued in that same hushed tone.

  
  


“I just wanted to prove it.”  

  
  


Ryan slowed his pace but his mind was racing, those same gears from before humming as all the information he’d gathered on the Fake AH Crew collected and painted a picture. “Mask is your sniper, and that man with the scarf...he fits the profile of ‘Wolf’ pretty well, and he’s your backup sniper.” Gavin looked a little surprised, which means he hit the nail on the head. “So what exactly were you doing?”

  
  


“Failing, obviously,” Gavin muttered.

  
  


“You’re going to get yourself killed taking risks like that, idiot,” Ryan snarked, hefting him up a little before they started down the next flight of stairs.

  
  


“Why do you care?” Gavin bit out. “You don’t even know me.”

  
  


“Your fucking boss is obviously smart and if he tells you to do something, just do it or you end up like _this_.” Ryan squeezed him and the Brit yelped before glaring. “It doesn’t matter if I know you or not. _Don’t_ get mixed up in a three way firefight and then get a hole in your leg.”

  
  


“We killed your cop buddies,” Gavin deadpanned, watching the man’s face. “We did it without blinking. You should’ve left me to die, you should’ve arrested me.”

  
  


“But I didn’t and now we’re here, so shut up and try to make yourself weigh less,” Ryan grumbled, taking them more quickly down the steps as the sound of gunfire echoed from above. They reached the ground floor and he could feel Gavin’s blood soaking hot into his clothes. Gavin looked a little woozy but he was still awake, making frustrated noises but awake. He rammed his shoulder into the emergency exit and spilled out into a back alley.

  
  


There was a van sitting there at the mouth of it, cutting off the exit. It was almost too perfect, too easy. The vehicle looked innocent, beat up for and labeled for an old cable company. “Is that…?”

  
  


The door slid open and two men stepped out, the barrel of their guns trained on Ryan. He sighed and walked closer, keeping Gavin close like a shield. He recognized cocky Michael right away, and the other he took a moment to register. A winding red scarf, dark eyes, and the long length of a rifle - Dan.  

  
  


“Hand him over.” Michael’s voice was like steel, sharp and unyielding, and his stare cut right through him.

  
  


“Come get him,” Ryan prompted.

  
  


The rifle clicked, aim steadying. “Don’t test us.”

  
  


Ryan hadn’t forgot that deep husk of a voice and he tried not to let it affect him. “You want me to drop him?”

  
  


“Put him on the ground, asshole!” Michael barked, temper flaring.

  
  


“Do it,” Gavin half-begged, feeling dizzy. “There’s no time to argue over something bloody stupid like me.”

  
  


“Stop that,” Ryan muttered. “You just want me to lay you on the ground like a sack?”  
  


 

“Now who’s the idiot?” Gavin teased weakly, blinking rapidly to fight off the dark spots.

  
  


Ryan grumbled and knelt down to sit the Brit on the ground. “He needs patched up quick. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  
  


A door burst open further down from where they’d emerged and a man barrelled through, panting, gun drawn. _DiNozzo_. The other agent wasn't’ as dumb as Ryan always said he was and the look on his face proved it. Everyone froze and there was just one muttered curse.

  
  


Everything started to click together and Ryan couldn’t have that. He grabbed the gun Gavin had hidden under the hem of his jeans and thumbed off the safety, turning on his knees and barely taking the moment to aim before firing off a shot. There was a spray of blood from the neck and DiNozzo went down with a desperate windmill, arms flailing before he fell.

  
  


A heavy silence fell on the alley.

  
  


“What are you doing?” Ryan barked out, jumping to his feet and shooting them with a glare. “Get out of here! I wasn’t kidding about him bleeding out!”

  
  


Dan’s rifle wavered only moments before it was strapped over his shoulder and he raced forward, booted feet eating up the distance. The speed was impressive and he slid up next to Gavin, crouching and scooping him up. Dan gave Ryan a strange, silent look before darting back to the van as fast as he could with the new wait. Gavin disappeared into the van, and Michael made sure to level the agent with a warning look before he disappeared too.  

  
  


The van peeled off and it was all gone like a dream.

  
  


Reality was sudden and cold. Ryan walked over and knelt beside DiNozzo. The agent was bleeding out fast and hard on the asphalt, crimson pooling thick. Ryan put his fingers in the wound and watched the shocked look in that desperate, handsome face. He slathered the blood over the spots Gavin had left on him, rubbing it in. DiNozzo was gasping hoarsely but it was getting wet, breaths threatening on a death rattle. It was macabre but it didn’t touch him beyond a surface layer of humanity.

  
  


Ryan covered the other agent’s throat with his hand, testing the flutter of his pulse and running a time of death in his head and slicing up time to give the Fake AH Crew time to clear the area. He plucked up the radio and flipped it on, cleared his throat and trying his best to sound rattled. “Shot fired. Officer down. I need someone ASAP. His throat is gushing, I-I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  
  


Ryan let go of the of the button and hoped he sounded convincing.

  
  


Kerry’s voice crackled quickly over the radio. ’ _Jesus Christ, where are you?_ ’

  
  


Ryan took a calming breath before he put on a stutter. “Oh God, I-I didn’t realize...it’s behind the first building the sniper was in? The...the alley? Tony ran into him and the guy escaped in a truck when I came out. Please, Kerry, he’s _dying_.”

  
  


Ryan clicked the radio completely off and heaved a heavy sigh, blowing hair out of his face. He looked down at DiNozzo and realized the man had passed during the conversation. “Do you have any idea how much shit I’m going to have to go through to erase any traffic cams?” He dug his fingers in harder, blood oozing over his fingers. “Christ on a fucking stick, how many people I’ll have to bribe?”

  
  


He huffed against in frustration. “There goes my whole paycheck.”

  
  


o0o0o0o

  
  


There was a ton of suspicion to shake off but Ryan played his part back at headquarters. He spoke to the Chief, to internal affairs, and to Shawcross. He put on his act and even faked going into a bit of shock when they asked whose blood it was on his clothes. A few tears and he got out of giving up his clothes, the same clothes that had Gavin’s DNA and the real gun that had killed DiNozzo (the one he led others to believe was taken with the false shooter). It took a few hours in the bureau, and a few more hours spending hush money and erasing tapes, but eventually Ryan got in his car with the intent on finally going home.

 

  
It was already late into the night when he got in the car, slamming the door shut before slumping heavily into the seat. He let the persona melt away and he could truly breathe. He tilted his head back and sighed, enjoying the brief moment of silence. There were still lingering suspicions to combat but he got away with it, as he always had.

  
  


Something chilled his throat and when he started to sit up he realized it was a sharp knife, razor thin and right where he was most vulnerable.

  
  


“You’ve been such a good boy, James.”

  
  


Ryan shuddered against the seat, and after a long moment he hesitantly bared his neck. There was nothing he could do with the blade that tight to his skin. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror and there he was - Geoff was peeking around the seat and staring right at him through the mirror, and he looked _damn_ hungry.

  
  


“You saved my baby bird.” His voice was both grateful and devious, being carried by a relaxed and patient tone.

  
  


Geoff’s voice slid over him like silk and he shivered against the seat.

  
  


“He had a broken wing.”

  
  


“You could’ve let him die there and we wouldn’t have known,” Geoff pointed out.

  
  


Ryan scoffed. “Like you wouldn’t have known five minutes after a slapped the cuffs on them.”

  
  


“Still,” Geoff continued in that same lazy drawl. “You could’ve arrested him. Hell, you could’ve killed him.”

  
  


The knife flicked a little and he could feel blood welling up.

  
  


“Heh, but we would’ve killed you for that,” Geoff chuckled lowly. “They told me what you did to that cop.”

  
  


Ryan tried not to swallow, lungs aching to take a deep breath to slow the heavy thud of his heart. “I made a choice.”

  
  


“God damn, look at that face,” Geoff husked, tilting his head and raking his eyes over the agent’s reflection. “The things I’d do to you, Special Agent.”

  
  


“Like what?” Ryan tempted daringly. “Because right now all I can taste is murder.”

  
  


“You want me to fuel your night fantasies, is that it?” Geoff’s voice had roughened up, silk grating over glass and seeming to stuff his lungs. The man’s right hand came around, fingers splaying out and creeping into the collar of his shirt. Ryan breathed out through grit teeth as a hot palm layed over his pulse. “I bet you’re packing, aren’t ‘ya Big Boy?”

  
  


Ryan felt himself flush and Geoff traced the bloom of color on his cheeks and down across his throat. “Yeah you are. You want to touch that thick dick of yours and remember me telling you how bad I wanna’ get my mouth around it?”

  
  


Ryan went tense. He could see it perfectly and despite the danger, his cock twitched with interest.

  
  


“Feel how you plump up while you fuck my mouth. I’m thinking of how you would taste, but if I can be honest, James, I’m trying not to. I don’t know you get to me like you do, but just picturing how your pretty mouth will melt from my tongue drives me _wild._ ” He tried not to squirm but he moved just enough to make the knife slip again, a few more beads of blood rolling down his throat. “I bet you’re wondering if I have a stud?”

  
  


“I know you do,” Ryan breathed out. “I can hear it when you talk.”

  
  


He saw Geoff’s smirk in the mirror and his heart skipped. “I meant on my cock.” He could barely contain his laughter when the Special Agent’s face broke into a bit of disgust. He knew it wasn’t at him but at Ryan himself, of the needs he’d denied and the desire he was trying to bury.

  
  


“You fucking freak,” Ryan growled out, fists clenching at his sides. He was getting hard so fast his cock ached. The words, the proximity, the danger - it was everything he’d tried to keep himself from wanting.

  
  


Tattooed fingers drummed across his collarbone and it made him jump a little, the knife nicking him again. “You’re going to jerk off tonight and imagine what it’d feel like to get your dick wet with me, I just know it. Imagine what I could do to a strong, pretty thing like you. You don’t know what kind of talent I hold behind my tongue. I could make that loud, snitchy mouth of yours finally shut the fuck up.” He nipped the air and gave a flirtatious wink. He loved how Ryan shivered under his knife, eyes darting away from both him and the weapon. He pushed deeper and received a strong hiss. A trail of blood oozed down from the Agent’s skin and blade, staining the neck of his tee. It made Geoff purr happily, raising his eyebrows and smiled from how easily Ryan could bleed.

  
  


“Fuck you, Ramsey,” Ryan muttered without conviction.

  
  


“What I’d feel like bouncing in your lap, squeezing real tight on that fat cock, how I’d sound as you humped into me like a happy mutt because _no one_ fucks me,” Geoff growled, thumb rubbing firmly along his jaw. “Yet I keep thinking about you. A fucking pig.” His voice dropped and Ryan choked on a moan. “I keep on thinking about how much my boys love you and how I am going fucking _crazy_ by the thought of you. I want you...and I have a feeling that you want me too, no matter what you say, _Special Agent_. Tonight, think about it. Try it out, James, you might like it.”

  
  


Ryan sucked in a sharp breath when the knife tilted. He closed his eyes and just like that the blade was gone. The car door opened and closed, then the sound of a motorcycle peeling off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it to his neck to sop up the blood there. When he opened his eyes again it was like nothing had happened, and briefly he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing.

  
  


The blood on his collar said no - that it was all too real.

  
  


o0o

  
  


The second Ryan put his keys in the door to his apartment he knew something was wrong. He kicked open the door with his gun raised, skin prickling with adrenaline. He cleared the apartment one room at a time, listening close for any sign of escape, but there was no one. He shouldered open the bedroom door and almost dropped his gun.

  
  


The bed was in complete disarray, more than he’d left it this morning. Blanket kicked to the floor, pillows pushed aside and teetering on the edge. The whole room smelled like sex and he completely blanked, jaw dropping dumbly. Someone had fucked in his bed…?

  
  


There was a bad at the end of that same bed. It was the duffle he’d kept his stolen money in, the one that had been buried in his closet. He listened for a hum of electricity or a tick, a rustle, anything to indicate it had been sabotaged. Ryan was careful as he unzipped it and peaked inside. Money, stacks of money, but they were packed differently than he remembered. Someone had broken into his house, someone had touched his stuff.

  
  


Ryan made a rough sound in the back of his throat and dug through the cash, thumbing over the bundles and doing the math. It seemed like everything was there but it didn’t look like the same money. He wasn’t sure if it was a real change or paranoia until he found a sticky note among the stacks.

  
  


_Cleaned with love_

  
  


It was chicken scratch really and below it was a green star in a black circle. He knew exactly who it was. He dug around more and found a folded sticky note more carefully written.

  
  


_Dragon and Mask kind of had sex in your bed. Sorry about that.  
They did it while I was checking out your Netflix - Jack  
PS: I am also addicted to Storage Wars_

  
  


Ryan’s heart threatened to beat up out of his throat and there was heat pooling in his groin. He should’ve swept the place for bugs, started cleaning, maybe even cracked back into the files to start tracking these fuckers down. Instead he gave into his dark urges and leaned over the bed, one hand fumbling with the fly of his pants and the other braced on the mattress. He inhaled deeply and eased his cock out of the fold of his boxers, moaning as he smelled seed and old sweat. Male musk. He felt like a beast breathing it in but he was already riled up from Geoff and it took only a handful of pumps to get achingly hard again. These bastards were lighting his libidio higher than it had been since he was young and he didn’t understand why.

  
  


Was it the danger? The thrill of flirting with death? Or the sheer number of attractive men who all had their sights set on him?

  
  


Ryan clenched his eyes shut and huffed the smell of them. He remembered Ray and Michael fucking, how smoothly they moved together, how hot they’d sounded. He conjured up a fantasy of himself between them, groping smooth skin and biting at their tempting mouths. He could almost feel calloused fingers spreading across his back before Dan started biting at his shoulders, fitting perfectly up behind him. The four of them crawling over one another, sharing lingering kisses before they bit at chests and thighs and rutted flushed cocks against one another.

  
  


Ryan started fucking his fist so hard his open pants fell down around his ankles, hips humping forward hard as the fantasy changed. He was yanked away from those pretty boys and put on his knees, a pierced cock sliding past his lips and filling his mouth. Inked fingers cradled the back of his head, fisting his hair before his throat was mercilessly fucked.

  
  


Ryan choked on a groan and striped the filthy sheets, spilling heavy across his fingers as he squeezed the head and milked his orgasm. Spots danced behind his eyelids and his mouth hung open obscenely, nearly drooling as the pleasure spiked white hot. His entire body went liquid, arm shaking hard as it threatened to give out.

  
  


He shuddered in his shame and wondered what the hell he was going to do. They knew about him, about what he’d done. They’d laundered his dirty money and been through his apartment, they’d snuffed out his darkest secret. The Fake AH Crew knew who he was, and if they didn’t they would soon. They had a noose around his nest and this apartment suddenly felt like a prison, bars wrapped in normalcy to make sure he didn’t fight his way out.

  
  


How long had they been watching him? Were they watching him now?

  
  


Ryan sat on the bed and hid his flushed, humiliated face and for once he couldn’t figure out the next step. Whatever he chose, he was sure Geoff had already figured it out. _Fuck me._

  
  
  
  


 


End file.
